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ALEXANDER  POPE 

After  the  portrait  by  William  Hoare 


THE 

RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK 

AND 

OTHER   POEMS 

BY 

ALEXANDER   POPE 


I 


1^ 


Edited 
With  Introduction  and  Notes 

BY 

THOMAS  MARC   PARROTT,  Ph.D. 

Professor  op  English,  Princeton  University 


GINN  AND  COMPANY 

BOSTON     •     NEW  YORK     •    CHICAGO     •     LONDON 
ATLANTA     •     DALLAS     •     COLUMBUS     •     SAN  FRANCISCO 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
THOMAS  M.  PARROTT 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 

326.3 


GINN  AND  COMPANY  .  PRO- 
PR  I ETOKS  •  BOSTON  .  U.S.A. 


aRis 


Oc/2!6B057 


PREFACE 

It  has  been  the  aim  of  the  editor  in  preparing  this  Httle  book 
to  get  together  sufficient  material  to  afford  a  student  in  one  of 
our  high  schools  or  colleges  adequate  and  typical  specimens  of 
the  vigorous  and  versatile  genius  of  Alexander  Pope.  With  this 
purpose  he  has  included  in  addition  to  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  the 
Essay  on  Criticism  as  furnishing  the  standard  by  which  Pope 
himself  expected  his  vi^ork  to  be  judged,  the  First  Epistle  of  the 
Essay  on  Man  as  a  characteristic  example  of  his  didactic  poetry, 
and  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  both  for  its  exhibition  of  Pope's 
genius  as  a  satirist  and  for  the  picture  it  gives  of  the  poet  him- 
self. To  these  are  added  the  famous  close  of  the  Dunciad, 
the  Ode  to  Solitude,  a  specimen  of  Pope's  infrequent  lyric  note, 
and  the  Epitaph  on  Gay. 

The  first  edition  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  has  been  given  as  an 
appendix  in  order  that  the  student  may  have  the  opportunity 
of  comparing  the  two  forms  of  this  poem,  and  of  realizing  the 
admirable  art  with  which  Pope  blended  old  and  new  in  the  ver- 
sion that  is  now  the  only  one  known  to  the  average  reader. 
The  text  throughout  is  that  of  the  Globe  Edition  prepared  by 
Professor  A.  W.  Ward. 

The  editor  can  lay  no  claim  to  originality  in  the  notes  with 
which  he  has  attempted  to  explain  and  illustrate  these  poems. 
He  is  indebted  at  every  step  to  the  labors  of  earlier  editors, 
particularly  to  Elwin,  Courthope,  Pattison,  and  Hales.  If  he 
has  added  anything  of  his  own,  it  has  been  in  the  way  of  defining 
certain  words  whose  meaning  or  connotation  has  changed  since 
the  time  of  Pope,  and  in  paraphrasing  certain  passages  to  bring 


vi  PREFACE 

out  a  meaning  which  has  been  partially  obscured  by  the  poet's 
effort  after  brevity  and  concision. 

In  the  general  introduction  the  editor  has  aimed  not  so  much 
to  recite  the  facts  of  Pope's  life  as  to  draw  the  portrait  of  a  man 
whom  he  believes  to  have  been  too  often  misunderstood  and 
misrepresented.  The  special  introductions  to  the  various 
poems  are  intended  to  acquaint  the  student  with  the  circum- 
stances under  which  they  were  composed,  to  trace  their  literary 
genesis  and  relationships,  and,  whenever  necessary,  to  give  an 
outline  of  the  train  of  thought  which  they  embody. 

In  conclusion  the  editor  would  express  the  hope  that  his 
labors  in  the  preparation  of  this  book  may  help,  if  only  in  some 
slight  degree,  to  stimulate  the  study  of  the  work  of  a  poet  who, 
with  all  his  limitations,  remains  one  of  the  abiding  glories  of 
English  literature,  and  may  contribute  not  less  to  a  proper  ap- 
preciation of  a  man  who  with  all  his  faults  was,  on  the  evidence 
of  those  who  knew  him  best,  not  only  a  great  poet,  but  a 
very  human  and  lovable  personality. 

T.  M.  P. 

Princeton  University,  June  4,  1906. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction ix 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock 3 

An  Essay  on  Criticism 3* 

An  Essay  on  Man,  Epistle  I 54 

An  Epistle  to  Dr  Arbuthnot 66 

Ode  on  Solitude 8o 

The  Descent  of  Dullness  [from  the  Dunciad,  Book  IV]       .  8i 

Epitaph  on  Gay 82 

Notes ^7 

the  rape  of  the  lock 87 

an  essay  on  criticism loi 

an  essay  on  man  (epistle  i) 115 

AN    epistle   to    dr   ARBUTHNOT 


126 


selections ^42 

Appendix ^45 

the    first    edition    of   the   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK         .  .  .       I45 


vu 


INTRODUCTION 

Perhaps  no  other  great  poet  in  English  Literature  has  been 
so  differently  judged  at  different  times  as  Alexander  Pope. 
Accepted  almost  on  his  first  appearance  as  one  of  the  leading 
poets  of  the  day,  he  rapidly  became  recognized  as  the  fore- 
most man  of  letters  of  his  age.  He  held  this  position  through- 
out his  life,  and  for  over  half  a  century  after  his  death  his 
works  were  considered  not  only  as  masterpieces,  but  as  the 
finest  models  of  poetry.  With  the  change  of  poetic  temper 
that  occurred  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  Pope's 
fame  was  overshadowed.  The  romantic  poets  and  critics  even 
raised  the  question  whether  Pope  was  a  poet  at  all.  And  as 
his  poetical  fame  diminished,  the  harsh  judgments  of  his  per- 
sonal character  increased.  It  is  almost  incredible  with  what 
exulting  bitterness  critics  and  editors  of  Pope  have  tracked  out 
and  exposed  his  petty  intrigues,  exaggerated  his  delinquencies, 
misrepresented  his  actions,  attempted  in  short  to  blast  his 
character  as  a  man. 

Both  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet  Pope  is  sadly  in  need  of  a  de- 
fender to-day.  And  a  defense  is  by  no  means  impossible. 
The  depreciation  of  Pope's  poetry  springs,  in  the  main,  from  an 
attempt  to  measure  it  by  other  standards  than  those  which  he 
and  his  age  recognized.  The  attacks  upon  his  character  are 
due,  in  large  measure,  to  a  misunderstanding  of  the  spirit  of 
the  times  in  which  he  Uved  and  to  a  forgetfulness  of  the  special 
circumstances  of  his  own  life.  Tried  in  a  fair  court  by  impartial 
judges  Pope  as  a  poet  would  be  awarded  a  place,  if  not  among 
the  noblest  singers,  at  least  high  among  poets  of  the  second 

ix. 


X  INTRODUCTION 

order.  And  the  flaws  of  character  which  even  his  warmest 
apologist  must  admit  would  on  the  one  hand  be  explained,  if 
not  excused,  by  circumstances,  and  on  the  other  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  existence  of  noble  quaUties  to  which 
his  assailants  seem  to  have  been  quite  blind. 

Alexander  Pope  was  born  in  London  on  May  21,  1688. 
His  father  was  a  Roman  Catholic  linen  draper,  who  had  mar- 
ried a  second  time.  Pope  was  the  only  child  of  this  marriage, 
and  seems  to  have  been  a  delicate,  sweet-tempered,  precocious; 
and,  perhaps,  a  rather  spoiled  child. 

Pope's  religion  and  his  chronic  ill-health  are  two  facts  of  the 
highest  importance  to  be  taken  into  consideration  in  any  study 
of  his  life  or  judgment  of  his  character.  The  high  hopes  of  the 
Catholics  for  a  restoration  of  their  religion  had  been  totally 
destroyed  by  the  Revolution  of  1688.  During  all  Pope's 
lifetime  they  were  a  sect  at  once  feared,  hated,  and  oppressed 
by  the  severest  laws.  They  were  excluded  from  the  schools 
and  universities,  they  were  burdened  with  double  taxes,  and  for- 
bidden to  acquire  real  estate.  All  public  careers  were  closed 
to  them,  and  their  property  and  even  their  persons  were  in 
times  of  excitement  at  the  mercy  of  informers.  In  the  last  year 
of  Pope's  hfe  a  proclamation  was  issued  forbidding  Catholics  to 
come  within  ten  miles  of  London,  and  Pope  himself,  in  spite 
of  his  influential  friends,  thought  it  wise  to  comply  with  this 
edict.  A  fierce  outburst  of  persecution  often  evokes  in  the  per- 
secuted some  of  the  noblest  qualities  of  human  nature;  but  a 
long-continued  and  crushing  tyranny  that  extends  to  all  the 
details  of  daily  life  is  only  too  likely  to  have  the  most  unfortu- 
nate results  on  those  who  are  subjected  to  it.  And  as  a  matter 
of  fact  we  find  that  the  well-to-do  Catholics  of  Pope's  day 
lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  disaffection,  political  intrigue,  and 
evasion  of  the  law,  most  unfavorable  for  the  development  of 
that  frank,  courageous,  and  patriotic   spirit  for   the  lack  of 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

« 

which  Pope  himself  has  so  often  been  made  the  object  of 
reproach. 
/''  In  a  well-known  passage  of  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  Pope  has 
'  spoken  of  his  life  as  one  long  disease.  He  was  in  fact  a  hump- 
backed dwarf,  not  over  four  feet  six  inches  in  height,  with  long, 
spider-like  legs  and  arms.  He  was  subject  to  violent  headaches, 
and  his  face  was  lined  and  contracted  with  the  marks  of  suffer- 
ing. In  youth  he  so  completely  ruined  his  health  by  perpetual 
studies  that  his  Ufe  was  despaired  of,  and  only  the  most  careful 
treatment  saved  him  from  an  early  death.  Toward  the  close 
of  his  life  he  became  so  weak  that  he  could  neither  dress  nor 
undress  without  assistance.  He  had  to  be  laced  up  in  stiff 
stays  in  order  to  sit  erect,  and  wore  a  fur  doublet  and  three 
pairs  of  stockings  to  protect  himself  against  the  cold.  With 
these  physical  defects  he  had  the  extreme  sensitiveness  of  mind 
that  usually  accompanies  chronic  ill  health,  and  this  sensitive- 
ness was  outraged  incessantly  by  the  brutal  customs  of  the  age. 
Pope's  enemies  made  as  free  with  his  person  as  with  his  poetry, 
and  there  is  Httle  doubt  that  he  felt  the  former  attacks  the  more 
bitterly  of  the  two.  Dennis,  his  first  critic,  called  him  "a 
short  squab  gentleman,  the  very  bow  of  the  God  of  love;  his 
outward  form  is  downright  monkey."  A  rival  poet  whom  he 
had  offended  hung  up  a  rod  in  a  coffee  house  where  men  of 
letters  resorted,  and  threatened  to  whip  Pope  like  a  naughty 
child  if  he  showed  his  face  there.  It  is  said,  though  perhaps  not 
on  the  best  authority,  that  when  Pope  once  forgot  himself  so 
far  as  to  make  love  to  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  the  lady's 
answer  was  "a  fit  of  immoderate  laughter."  In  an  appendix 
to  the  Dimciad  Pope  collected  some  of  the  epithets  with  which 
his  enemies  had  pelted  him,  "an  ape,"  "an  ass,"  "a  frog," 
"a  coward,"  "a  fool,"  "a  Httle  abject  thing."  He  affected,  in- 
deed, to  despise  his  assailants,  but  there  is  only  too  good  evidence 
that  their  poisoned  arrows  rankled  in  his  heart.     Richardson, 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

the  painter,  found  him  one  day  reading  the  latest  abusive  pam- 
phlet. "These  things  are  my  diversion,"  said  the  poet,  striving 
to  put  the  best  face  on  it;  but  as  he  read,  his  friends  saw  his  fea- 
tures "writhen  with  anguish,"  and  prayed  to  be  delivered  from 
all  such  "  diversions  "  as  these.  Pope's  enemies  and  their  savage 
abuse  are  mostly  forgotten  to-day.  Pope's  furious  retorts  have 
been  secured  to  immortality  by  his  genius.  It  would  have  been 
nobler,  no  doubt,  to  have  answered  by  silence  only ;  but  before 
one  condemns  Pope  it  is  only  fair  to  realize  the  causes  of  his 
bitterness. 

Pope's  education  was  short  and  irregular.  He  was  taught 
the  rudiments  of  Latin  and  Greek  by  his  family  priest,  attended 
for  a  brief  period  a  school  in  the  country  and  another  in  London, 
and  at  the  early  age  of  twelve  left  school  altogether,  and  settling 
down  at  his  father's  house  in  the  country  began  to  read  to  his 
heart's  delight.  He  roamed  through  the  classic  poets,  trans- 
lating passages  that  pleased  him,  went  up  for  a  time  to  London 
to  get  lessons  in  French  and  Italian,  and  above  all  read  with 
eagerness  and  attention  the  works  of  older  English  poets, — 
Spenser,  Waller,  and  Dryden.  He  had  already,  it  would  seem, 
determined  to  become  a  poet,  and  his  father,  delighted  with  the 
clever  boy's  talent,  used' to  set  him  topics,  force  him  to  correct  his 
verses  over  and  over,  and  finally,  when  satisfied,  dismiss  him 
with  the  praise,  "These  are  good  rhymes."  He  wrote  a  comedy, 
a  tragedy,  an  epic  poem,  all  of  which  he  afterward  destroyed 
and,  as  he  laughingly  confessed  in  later  years,  he  thought 
himself  "the  greatest  genius  that  ever  was." 

Pope  was  not  alone,  however,  in  holding  a  high  opinion  of  his 
talents.  While  still  a  boy  in  his  teens  he  was  taken  up  and 
patronized  by  a  number  of  gentlemen,  Trumbull,  Walsh,  and 
Cromwell,  all  dabblers  in  poetry  and  criticism.  He  was  in- 
troduced to  the  dramatist  Wycherly,  nearly  fifty  years  his  senior, 
and  helped  to  polish  some  of  the  old  man's  verses.     His  own 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

works  were  passed  about  in  manuscript  from  hand  to  hand  till 
one  of  them  came  to  the  eyes  of  Dryden's  old  publisher,  Tonson. 
Tonson  wrote  Pope  a  respectful  letter  asking  for  the  honor  of 
being  allowed  to  publish  them.  One  may  fancy  the  delight 
with  which  the  sixteen-year-old  boy  received  this  offer.  It  is  a 
proof  of  Pope's  patience  as  well  as  his  precocity  that  he  de- 
layed three  years  before  accepting  it.  It  was  not  till  1709  that 
his  first  published  verses,  the  Pastorals,  a  fragment  trans- 
lated from  Homer,  and  a  modernized  version  of  one  of  the 
Canterbury  Tales,  appeared  in  Tonson's  Miscellany. 

With  the  publication  of  the  Pastorals,  Pope  embarked  upon 
his  life  as  a  man  of  letters.  They  seem  to  have  brought  him  a 
certain  recognition,  but  hardly  fame.  That  he  obtained  by  his 
next  poem,  the  Essay  on  Criticism,  which  appeared  in  17 11.  It 
was  applauded  in  the  Spectator,  and  Pope  seems  about  this 
time  to  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Addison  and  the  little 
senate  which  met  in  Button's  coffee  house.  His  poem  the 
Messiah  appeared  in  the  Spectator  in  May  1 7 1 2 ;  the  first  draft 
of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  in  a  poetical  miscellany  in  the  same  year, 
and  Addison's  request,  in  1713,  that  he  compose  a  prologue  for 
the  tragedy  of  Cato  set  the  final  stamp  upon  his  rank  as  a  poet. 

Pope's  friendly  relations  with  Addison  and  his  circle  were  not, 
however,  long  continued.  In  the  year  17 13  he  gradually  drew 
away  from  them  and  came  under  the  influence  of  Swift,  then 
at  the  height  of  his  power  in  political  and  social  life.  Swift  in- 
troduced him  to  the  brilliant  Tories,  politicians  and  lovers  of 
letters,  Harley,  Bolingbroke,  and  Atterbury,  who  were  then  at 
the  head  of  affairs.  Pope's  new  friends  seem  to  have  treated 
him  with  a  deference  which  he  had  never  experienced  before, 
and  which  bound  him  to  them  in  unbroken  affection.  Harley 
used  to  regret  that  Pope's  religion  rendered  him  legally  inca- 
pable of  holding  a  sinecure  office  in  the  government,  such  as 
was  frequently  bestowed  in  those  days  upon  men  of  letters, 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

and  Swift  jestingly  offered  the  young  poet  twenty  guineas  to 
become  a  Protestant.  But  now,  as  later,  Pope  was  firmly  re- 
solved not  to  abandon  the  faith  of  his  parents  for  the  sake  of 
worldly  advantage.  And  in  order  to  secure  the  independence 
he  valued  so  highly  he  resolved  to  embark  upon  the  great  work 
of  his  life,  the  translation  of  Homer. 

"What  led  me  into  that,"  he  told  a  friend  long  after,  "was 
purely  the  want  of  money.  I  had  then  none;  not  even  to  buy 
books."  It  seems  that  about  this  time,  1713,  Pope's  father  had 
experienced  some  heavy  financial  losses,  and  the  poet,  whose 
receipts  in  money  had  so  far  been  by  no  means  in  proportion  to 
the  reputation  his  works  had  brought  him,  now  resolved  to 
use  that  reputation  as  a  means  of  securing  from  the  public  a 
sum  which  would  at  least  keep  him  for  life  from  poverty  or 
the  necessity  of  begging  for  patronage.  It  is  worth  noting 
that  Pope  was  the  first  Englishman  of  letters  who  threw  him- 
self thus  boldly  upon  the  public  and  earned  his  living  by  his 
pen. 

The  arrangements  for  the  publication  and  sale  of  Pope's 
translation  of  Homer  were  made  with  care  and  pushed  on  with 
enthusiasm.  He  issued  in  17 13  his  proposals  for  an  edition  to 
be  published  by  subscription,  and  his  friends  at  once  be- 
came enthusiastic  canvassers.  We  have  a  characteristic  picture 
of  Swift  at  this  time,  bustHng  about  a  crowded  ante-chamber, 
and  informing  the  company  that  the  best  poet  in  England  was 
Mr.  Pope  (a  Papist)  who  had  begun  a  translation  of  Homer  for 
which  they  must  all  subscribe,  "for,"  says  he,  "the  author  shall 
not  begin  to  print  till  I  have  a  thousand  guineas  for  him." 
The  work  was  to  be  in  six  volumes,  each  costing  a  guinea.  Pope 
obtained  575  subscribers,  many  of  whom  took  more  than  one  set. 
Lintot,  the  publisher,  gave  Pope  ;^i2oo  for  the  work  and  agreed 
to  supply  the  subscription  copies  free  of  charge.  As  a  result 
Pope  made   something   between    ;^5ooo  and  ;^6ooo,   a   sum 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

absolutely  unprecedented  in  the  history  of  English  literature, 
and  amply  sufficient  to  make  him  independent  for  life. 

But  the  sum  was  honestly  earned  by  hard  and  wearisome  work. 
Pope  was  no  Greek  scholar;  it  is  said,  indeed,  that  he  was  just 
able  to  make  out  the  sense  of  the  original  with  a  translation. 
And  in  addition  to  the  fifteen  thousand  lines  of  the  Iliad,  he 
had  engaged  to  furnish  an  introduction  and  notes.  At  first  the 
magnitude  of  the  undertaking  frightened  him.  "What  ter- 
rible moments,"  he  said  to  Spence,  "does  one  feel  after  one  has 
engaged  for  a  large  work.  In  the  beginning  of  my  translating 
the  Iliad,  I  wished  anybody  would  hang  me  a  hundred  times. 
It  sat  so  heavily  on  my  mind  at  first  that  I  often  used  to  dream 
of  it  and  do  sometimes  still."  In  spite  of  his  discouragement, 
however,  and  of  the  ill  health  which  so  constantly  beset  him, 
Pope  fell  gallantly  upon  his  task,  and  as  time  went  on  came  al- 
most to  enjoy  it.  He  used  to  translate  thirty  or  forty  verses  in 
the  morning  before  rising  and,  in  his  own  characteristic  phrase, 
"piddled  over  them  for  the  rest  of  the  day."  He  used  every 
assistance  possible,  drew  freely  upon  the  scholarship  of  friends, 
corrected  and  recorrected  with  a  view  to  obtaining  clearness 
and  point,  and  finally  succeeded  in  producing  a  version  which 
not  only  satisfied  his  own  critical  judgment,  but  was  at  once 
accepted  by  the  English-speaking  world  as  the  standard  trans- 
lation of  Homer. 

The  first  volume  came  out  in  June,  17 15,  and  to  Pope's 
dismay  and  wrath  a  rival  translation  appeared  almost  simul- 
taneously. Tickell,  one  of  Addison's  "little  senate,"  had  also 
begun  a  translation  of  the  Iliad,  and  although  he  announced  in 
the  preface  that  he  intended  to  withdraw  in  favor  of  Pope  and 
take  up  a  translation  of  the  Odyssey,  the  poet's  suspicions  were 
at  once  aroused.  And  they  were  quickly  fanned  into  a  flame 
by  the  gossip  of  the  town  which  reported  that  Addison,  the 
recognized  authority  in  literary  criticism,  pronounced  Tickell's 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

version  "the  best  that  ever  was  in  any  language.*'  Rumoi 
went  so  far,  in  fact,  as  to  hint  pretty  broadly  that  Addison  him- 
self was  the  author,  in  part,  at  least,  of  Tickell's  book;  and 
Pope,  who  had  been  encouraged  by  Addison  to  begin  his  long 
task,  felt  at  once  that  he  had  been  betrayed.  His  resentment 
was  all  the  more  bitter  since  he  fancied  that  Addison,  now  at 
the  height  of  his  power  and  prosperity  in  the  world  of  letters 
and  of  politics,  had  attempted  to  ruin  an  enterprise  on  which 
the  younger  man  had  set  all  his  hopes  of  success  and  independ- 
ence, for  no  better  reason  than  literary  jealousy  and  political 
estrangement.  We  know  now  that  Pope  was  mistaken,  but 
there  was  beyond  question  some  reason  at  the  time  for  his 
thinking  as  he  did,  and  it  is  to  the  bitterness  which  this  incident 
caused  in  his  mind  that  we  owe  the  famous  satiric  portrait  of 
Addison  as  Atticus. 

The  last  volume  of  the  Iliad  appeared  in  the  spring  of  1720, 
and  in  it  Pope  gave  a  renewed  proof  of  his  independence  by 
dedicating  the  whole  work,  not  to  some  lord  who  would  have 
rewarded  him  with  a  handsome  present,  but  to  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, Congreve,  the  last  survivor  of  the  brilliant  comic  drama- 
tists of  Dryden's  day.  And  now  resting  for  a  time  from  his 
long  labors.  Pope  turned  to  the  adornment  and  cultivation  of  the 
little  house  and  garden  that  he  had  leased  at  Twickenham. 

Pope's  father  had  died  in  1717,  and  the  poet,  rejecting  politely 
but  firmly  the  suggestion  of  his  friend,  Atterbury,  that  he 
might  now  turn  Protestant,  devoted  himself  with  double  tender- 
ness to  the  care  of  his  aged  and  infirm  mother.  He  brought 
her  with  him  to  Twickenham,  where  she  lived  till  1733,  dying 
in  that  year  at  the  great  age  of  ninety-one.  It  may  have  been 
partly  on  her  account  that  Pope  pitched  upon  Twickenham  as 
his  abiding  place.  Beautifully  situated  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames,  it  was  at  once  a  quiet  country  place  and  yet  of  easy 
access  to  London,  to  Hampton  Court,  or  to  Kew.    The  five 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

acres  of  land  that  lay  about  the  house  furnished  Pope  with  in- 
exhaustible entertainment  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  "twisted 
and  twirled  and  harmonized"  his  bit  of  ground  "till  it  appeared 
two  or  three  sweet  little  lawns  opening  and  opening  beyond  one 
another,  the  whole  surrounded  by  impenetrable  woods." 
Following  the  taste  of  his  times  in  landscape  gardening,  he 
adorned  his  lawns  with  artificial  mounds,  a  shell  temple,  an 
obelisk,  and  a  colonnade.  But  the  crowning  glory  was  the 
grotto,  a  tunnel  decorated  fantastically  with  shells  and  bits  of 
looking-glass,  which  Pope  dug  under  a  road  that  ran  through 
his  grounds.  Here  Pope  received  in  state,  and  his  house  and 
garden  was  for  years  the  center  of  the  most  briUiant  society 
in  England.  Here  Swift  came  on  his  rare  visits  from  Ireland, 
and  Bolingbroke  on  his  return  from  exile.  Arbuthnot,  Pope's 
beloved  physician,  was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  Peterborough, 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  English  soldiers,  conde- 
scended to  help  lay  out  the  garden.  Congreve  came  too,  at 
times,  and  Gay,  the  laziest  and  most  good-natured  of  poets. 
Nor  was  the  society  of  women  lacking  at  these  gatherings. 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  the  wittiest  woman  in  England, 
was  often  there,  until  her  bitter  quarrel  with  the  poet;  the 
grim  old  Duchess  of  Marlborough  appeared  once  or  twice  in 
Pope's  last  years;  and  the  Princess  of  Wales  came  with  her 
husband  to  inspire  the  leaders  of  the  opposition  to  the  hated 
Walpole  and  the  miserly  king.  And  from  first  to  last,  the 
good  angel  of  the  place  was  the  blue-eyed,  sweet-tempered 
Patty  Blount,  Pope's  best  and  dearest  friend. 

Not  long  after  the  completion  of  the  Iliad,  Pope  undertook 
to  edit  Shakespeare,  and  completed  the  work  in  1724.  The 
edition  is,  of  course,  quite  superseded  now,  but  it  has  its  place 
in  the  history  of  Shakespearean  studies  as  the  first  that  made  an 
effort,  though  irregular  and  incomplete,  to  restore  the  true  text 
by  collation  and  conjecture.     It  has  its  place,  too,  in  the  story 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

of  Pope's  life,  since  the  bitter  criticism  which  it  received,  all  the 
more  unpleasant  to  the  poet  since  it  was  in  the  main  true, 
was  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  his  writing  the  Dunciad. 
Between  the  publication  of  his  edition  of  Shakespeare,  however, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  Dunciad,  Pope  resolved  to  complete 
his  translation  of  Homer,  and  with  the  assistance  of  a  pair  of 
friends,  got  out  a  version  of  the  Odyssey  in  1725.  Like  the 
Iliad,  this  was  published  by  subscription,  and  as  in  the  former 
case  the  greatest  men  in  England  were  eager  to  show  their 
appreciation  of  the  poet  by  filling  up  his  lists.  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  the  great  Whig  statesman,  took  ten  copies,  and 
Harley,  the  fallen  Tory  leader,  put  himself,  his  wife,  and  his 
daughter  down  for  sixteen.  Pope  made,  it  is  said,  about  ;^37oo 
by  this  work. 

In  1726,  Swift  visited  Pope  and  encouraged  him  to  complete 
a  satire  which  he  seems  already  to  have  begun  on  the  dull 
critics  and  hack  writers  of  the  day.  For  one  cause  or  another 
its  publication  was  deferred  until  1728,  when  it  appeared  under 
the  title  of  the  Dunciad.  Here  Pope  declared  open  war  upon  his 
enemies.  All  those  who  had  attacked  his  works,  abused  his 
character,  or  scoffed  at  his  personal  deformities,  were  carica- 
tured as  ridiculous  and  sometimes  disgusting  figures  in  a  mock 
epic  poem  celebrating  the  accession  of  a  new  monarch  to  the 
throne  of  Dullness.  The  Dunciad  is  little  read  to-day  except 
by  professed  students  of  English  letters,  but  it  made,  naturally 
enough,  a  great  stir  at  the  time  and  vastly  provoked  the  wrath 
of  all  the  dunces  whose  names  it  dragged  to  light.  Pope 
has  often  been  blamed  for  stooping  to  such  ignoble  com- 
bat, and  in  particular  for  the  coarseness  of  his  abuse,  and 
for  his  bitter  jests  upon  the  poverty  of  his  opponents.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  no  living  writer  had  been  so  scan- 
dalously abused  as  Pope,  and  no  writer  that  ever  lived  was  by 
nature  so  quick  to  feel  and  to  resent  insult.     The  undoubted 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

coarseness  of  the  work  is  in  part  due  to  the  gross  license  of  the 
times  in  speech  and  writing,  and  more  particularly  to  the  in- 
fluence of  Swift,  at  this  time  predominant  over  Pope.  And  in 
regard  to  Pope's  trick  of  taunting  his  enemies  with  poverty,  it 
must  frankly  be  confessed  that  he  seized  upon  this  charge  as  a 
ready  and  telling  weapon.  Pope  was  at  heart  one  of  the  most 
charitable  of  men.  In  the  days  of  his  prosperity  he  is  said  to  have 
given  away  one  eighth  of  his  income.  And  he  was  always 
quick  to  succor  merit  in  distress;  he  pensioned  the  poet  Savage 
and  he  tried  to  secure  patronage  for  Johnson.  But  for  the 
wretched  hack  writers  of  the  common  press  who  had  barked 
against  him  he  had  no  mercy,  and  he  struck  them  with  the  first 
rod  that  lay  ready  to  his  hands. 

During  his  work  on  the  Dunciad,  Pope  came  into  intimate 
relations  with  Bohngbroke,  who  in  1725  had  returned  from  his 
long  exile  in  France  and  had  settled  at  Dawley  within  easy 
reach  of  Pope's  villa  at  Twickenham.  Bohngbroke  was  be- 
yond doubt  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  stimulating  minds  of 
his  age.  Without  depth  of  intellect  or  solidity  of  character, 
he  was  at  once  a  philosopher,  a  statesman,  a  scholar,  and  a 
fascinating  talker.  Pope,  who  had  already  made  his  acquaint- 
ance, was  delighted  to  renew  and  improve  their  intimacy,  and 
soon  came  wholly  under  the  influence  of  his  splendid  friend. 
It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  all  the  rest  of  Pope's  work 
is  directly  traceable  to  Bohngbroke.  The  Essay  on  Man  was 
built  up  on  the  precepts  of  Bolingbroke's  philosophy;  the 
Imitations  of  Horace  were  undertaken  at  Bolingbroke's  sug- 
gestion; and  the  whole  tone  of  Pope's  political  and  social  satire 
during  the  years  from  1731  to  1738  reflects  the  spirit  of  that 
opposition  to  the  administration  of  Walpole  and  to  the  grow- 
ing influence  of  the  commercial  class,  which  was  at  once  in- 
spired and  directed  by  Bohngbroke.  And  yet  it  is  exactly  in  the 
work  of  this  period  that  we  find  the  best  and  with  perhaps  one 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

exception,  the  Essay  on  Man,  the  most  original  work  of  Pope. 
He  has  obtained  an  absolute  command  over  his  instrument  of 
expression.  In  his  hands  the  heroic  couplet  sings,  and  laughs, 
and  chats,  and  thunders.  He  has  turned  from  the  ignoble 
warfare  with  the  dunces  to  satirize  courtly  frivolity  and  wicked- 
ness in  high  places.  And  most  important  of  all  to  the  student 
of  Pope,  it  is  in  these  last  works  that  his  personality  is  most 
clearly  revealed.  It  has  been  well  said  that  the  best  introduc- 
tion to  the  study  of  Pope,  the  man,  is  to  get  the  Epistle  to  Arbuth- 
not  by  heart. 

Pope  gradually  persuaded  himself  that  all  the  works  of  these 
years,  the  Essay  on  Man,  the  Satires,  Epistles,  and  Moral 
Essays,  were  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole.  He  told  Spence 
in  the  last  years  of  his  life:  "I  had  once  thought  of  completing 
my  ethic  work  in  four  books.  —  The  first,  you  know,  is  on  the 
Nature  of  Man  [the  Essay  on  Man] ;  the  second  would  have 
been  on  knowledge  and  its  limits  —  here  would  have  come  in  an 
Essay  on  Education,  part  of  which  I  have  inserted  in  the  Dun- 
ciad  [i.e.  in  the  Fourth  Book,  published  in  1742].  The  third 
was  to  have  treated  of  Government,  both  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  —  and  this  was  what  chiefly  stopped  my  going  on.  I  could 
not  have  said  what  /  would  have  said  without  provoking  every 
church  on  the  face  of  the  earth;  and  I  did  not  care  for  living 
always  in  boiling  water.  —  This  part  would  have  come  into  my 
Brutus  [an  epic  poem  which  Pope  never  completed],  which 
is  planned  already.  The  fourth  would  have  been  on 
Morality;  in  eight  or  nine  of  the  most  concerning  branches 
of  it." 

It  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  believe  that  Pope  with  his 
irregular  methods  of  work  and  illogical  habit  of  thought  had 
planned  so  vast  and  elaborate  a  system  before  he  began  its 
execution.  It  is  far  more  likely  that  he  followed  his  old  method 
of  composing  on  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  and  produced 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

the  works  in  question  with  little  thought  of  their  relation  or 
interdependence.  But  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  when  he  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Warburton,  and  was  engaged  in 
reviewing  and  perfecting  the  works  of  this  period,  he  noticed 
their  general  similarity  in  form  and  spirit,  and,  possibly  under 
Warburton's  influence,  conceived  the  notion  of  combining  and 
supplementing  them  to  form  that  "Greater  Essay  on  Man" 
of  which  he  spoke  to  Spence,  and  of  which  Warburton  himself 
has  given  us  a  detailed  account. 

Warburton,  a  wide-read,  pompous,  and  polemical  clergy- 
man, had  introduced  himself  to  the  notice  of  Pope  by  a  defense 
of  the  philosophical  and  religious  principles  of  the  Essay  on 
Man.  In  spite  of  the  influence  of  the  free-thinking  Boling- 
broke,  Pope  still  remained  a  member  of  the  Catholic  church  and 
sincerely  believed  himself  to  be  an  orthodox,  though  liberal, 
Christian,  and  he  had,  in  consequence,  been  greatly  discon- 
certed by  a  criticism  of  his  poem  published  in  Switzerland  and 
lately  translated  into  English.  Its  author,  Pierre  de  Crousaz, 
maintained,  and  with  a  considerable  degree  of  truth,  that  the 
principles  of  Pope's  poem  if  pushed  to  their  logical  conclusion 
were  destructive  to  religion  and  would  rank  their  author 
rather  among  atheists  than  defenders  of  the  faith.  The  very 
word  "  atheist "  was  at  that  day  sufficient  to  put  the  man  to 
whom  it  was  applied  beyond  the  pale  of  polite  society,  and 
Pope,  who  quite  lacked  the  ability  to  refute  in  logical  argu- 
ment the  attack  of  de  Crousaz,  was  proportionately  delighted 
when  Warburton  came  forward  in  his  defense,  and  in  a  series 
of  letters  asserted  that  Pope's  whole  intention  was  to  vindicate 
the  ways  of  God  to  man,  and  that  de  Crousaz  had  mistaken 
his  purpose  and  misunderstood  his  language.  Pope's  grati- 
tude to  his  defender  knew  no  bounds ;  he  declared  that  War- 
burton understood  the  Essay  better  than  he  did  himself;  he 
pronounced  him  the  greatest  critic  he  ever  knew,  secured  an 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

introduction  to  him,  introduced  him  to  his  own  rich  and  influeny 
tial  friends,  in  short  made  the  man's  fortune  for  him  outright. 
When  the  University  of  Oxford  hesitated  to  give  Warburton, 
who  had  never  attended  a  university,  the  degree  of  D.D., 
Pope  decHned  to  accept  the  degree  of  D.C.L.  which  had  been 
offered  him  at  the  same  time,  and  wrote  the  Fourth  Book  of 
the  Dunciad  to  satirize  the  stupidity  of  the  university  authori- 
ties. In  conjunction  with  Warburton  he  proceeded  further 
to  revise  the  whole  poem,  for  which  his  new  friend  wrote  notes 
and  a  ponderous  introduction,  and  made  the  capital  mistake 
of  substituting  the  frivolous,  but  clever,  CoUey  Gibber,  with 
whom  he  had  recently  become  embroiled,  for  his  old  enemy, 
Theobald,  as  the  hero.  And  the  last  year  of  his  hfe  was  spent 
in  getting  out  new  editions  of  his  poems  accompanied  by 
elaborate  commentaries  from  the  pen  of  Warburton. 

In  the  spring  of  1744,  it  was  evident  that  Pope  was  failing 
fast.  In  addition  to  his  other  ailments  he  was  now  attacked 
by  an  asthmatical  dropsy,  which  no  efforts  of  his  physicians 
could  remove.  Yet  he  continued  to  work  almost  to  the  last, 
and  distributed  copies  of  his  Ethic  Epistles  to  his  friends 
about  three  weeks  before  his  death,  with  the  smiling  remark 
that  like  the  dying  Socrates  he  was  dispensing  his  morality 
among  his  friends.  His  mind  began  to  wander;  he  complained 
that  he  saw  all  things  as  through  a  curtain,  and  told  Spence 
once  "with  a  smile  of  great  pleasure  and  with  the  greatest 
softness"  that  he  had  seen  a  vision.  His  friends  were  devoted 
in  their  attendance.  Bolingbroke  sat  weeping  by  his  chair, 
and  on  Spence's  remarking  how  Pope  with  every  rally  was  al- 
ways saying  something  kindly  of  his  friends,  replied:  "I  never 
in  my  life  knew  a  man  that  had  so  tender  a  heart  for  his  par- 
ticular friends,  or  a  more  general  friendship  for  mankind.  I 
have  known  him  these  thirty  years;  and  value  myself  more  for 
that  man's  love  than"  —  here  his  head  dropped  and  his  voice 


INTRODUCTION]  xxiii 

broke  in  tears.  It  was  noticed  that  whenever  Patty  Blount  came 
into  the  room,  the  dying  flame  of  life  flashed  up  in  a  momentary 
glow.  At  the  very  end  a  friend  reminded  Pope  that  as  a  pro- 
fessed Catholic  he  ought  to  send  for  a  priest.  The  dying  man 
replied  that  he  did  not  believe  it  essential,  but  thanked  him  for 
the  suggestion.  When  the  priest  appeared.  Pope  attempted  to 
rise  from  his  bed  that  he  might  receive  the  sacrament  kneeling, 
and  the  priest  came  out  from  the  sick  room  "penetrated  to  the 
last  degree  with  the  state  of  mind  in  which  he  found  his  peni- 
tent, resigned  and  wrapt  up  in  the  love  of  God  and  man." 
The  hope  that  sustained  Pope  to  the  end  was  that  of  immor- 
tahty.  "I  am  so  certain  of  the  soul's  being  immortal,"  he 
whispered,  almost  with  his  last  breath,  "that  I  seem  to  feel  it 
within  me,  as  it  were  by  intuition."  He  died  on  the  evening  of 
May  30,  so  quietly  that  his  friends  hardly  knew  that  the  end 
had  come.  He  was  buried  in  Twickenham  Church,  near  the 
monument  he  had  erected  to  his  parents,  and  his  coffin  was 
carried  to  the  grave  by  six  of  the  poorest  men  of  the  parish. 

It  is  plain  even  from  so  slight  a  sketch  as  this  that  the  com- 
mon conception  of  Pope  as  "the  wicked  wasp  of  Twicken- 
ham," a  bitter,  jealous,  and  malignant  spirit,  is  utterly  out  of 
accord  with  the  facts  of  his  life.  Pope's  faults  of  character 
lie  on  the  surface,  and  the  most  perceptible  is  that  which 
has  done  him  most  harm  in  the  eyes  of  English-speaking 
men.  He  was  by  nature,  perhaps  by  training  also,  untruthful. 
If  he  seldom  stooped  to  an  outright  lie,  he  never  hesitated 
to  equivocate;  and  students  of  his  life  have  found  that  it  is 
seldom  possible  to  take  his  word  on  any  point  where  his  own 
works  or  interests  were  concerned.  I  have  already  (p.  x) 
attempted  to  point  out  the  probable  cause  of  this  defect;  and 
it  is,  moreover,  worth  while  to  remark  that  Pope's  manifold 
intrigues  and  evasions  were  mainly  of  the  defensive  order. 
He  plotted  and  quibbled  not  so  much  to  injure  others  as  to 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

protect  himself.  To  charge  Pope  with  treachery  to  his  friends, 
as  has  sometimes  been  done,  is  wholly  to  misunderstand  his 
character. 

Another  flaw,  one  can  hardly  call  it  a  vice,  in  Pope's  character 
was  his  constant  practice  of  considering  everything  that  came  in 
his  way  as  copy.  It  was  this  which  led  him  to  reclaim  his 
early  letters  from  his  friends,  to  alter,  rewrite,  and  redate  them, 
utterly  unconscious  of  the  trouble  which  he  was  preparing  for 
his  future  biographers.  The  letters,  he  thought,  were  good 
reading  but  not  so  good  as  he  could  make  them,  and  he  set  to 
work  to  improve  them  with  all  an  artist's  zeal,  and  without  a 
trace  of  a  historian's  care  for  facts.  It  was  this  which  led  him 
to  embody  in  his  description  of  a  rich  fool's  splendid  house 
and  park  certain  unmistakable  traces  of  a  living  nobleman's 
estate  and  to  start  in  genuine  amazement  and  regret  when 
the  world  insisted  on  identifying  the  nobleman  and  the  fool. 
And  when  Pope  had  once  done  a  good  piece  of  work,  he  had  all 
an  artist's  reluctance  to  destroy  it.  He  kept  bits  of  verse  by 
him  for  years  and  inserted  them  into  appropriate  places  in  his 
poems.  This  habit  it  was  that  brought  about  perhaps  the 
gravest  charge  that  has  ever  been  made  against  Pope,  that  of 
accepting  £1000  to  suppress  a  satiric  portrait  of  the  old  Duchess 
of  Marlborough,  and  yet  of  publishing  it  in  a  revision  of  a 
poem  that  he  was  engaged  on  just  before  his  death.  The  truth 
seems  to  be  that  Pope  had  drawn  this  portrait  in  days  when 
he  was  at  bitter  enmity  with  the  Duchess,  and  after  the  recon- 
cilement that  took  place,  unwilling  to  suppress  it  entirely,  had 
worked  it  over,  and  added  passages  out  of  keeping  with  the 
first  design,  but  pointing  to  another  lady  with  whom  he  was 
now  at  odds.  Pope's  behavior,  we  must  admit,  was  not 
altogether  creditable,  but  it  was  that  of  an  artist  reluctant  to 
throw  away  good  work,  not  that  of  a  rufl&an  who  stabs  a  woman 
he  has  taken  money  to  spare. 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

Finally  Pope  was  throughout  his  life,  and  notably  in  his 
later  years,  the  victim  of  an  irritable  temper  and  a  quick,  abusive 
tongue.  His  irritability  sprang  in  part,  we  may  believe,  from 
his  physical  sufferings,  even  more,  however,  from  the  exqui- 
sitely sensitive  heart  which  made  him  feel  a  coarse  insult  as 
others  would  a  blow.  And  of  the  coarseness  of  the  insults 
that  were  heaped  upon  Pope  no  one  except  the  careful  student 
of  his  life  can  have  any  conception.  His  genius,  his  morals,  his 
person,  his  parents,  and  his  religion  were  overwhelmed  in  one 
indiscriminate  flood  of  abuse.  Too  high  spirited  to  submit 
tamely  to  these  attacks,  too  irritable  to  laugh  at  them,  he 
struck  back,  and  his  weapon  was  personal  satire  which  cut 
Hke  a  whip  and  left  a  brand  like  a  hot  iron.  And  if  at  times, 
as  in  the  case  of  Addison,  Pope  was  mistaken  in  his  object  and 
assaulted  one  who  was  in  no  sense  his  enemy,  the  fault  lies  not 
so  much  in  his  alleged  malice  as  in  the  unhappy  state  of  war- 
fare in  which  he  lived. 

Over  against  the  faults  of  Pope  we  may  set  more  than  one 
noble  characteristic.  The  sensitive  heart  and  impulsive 
temper  that  led  him  so  often  into  bitter  warfare,  made  him  also 
most  susceptible  to  kindness  and  quick  to  pity  suffering.  He 
was  essentially  of  a  tender  and  loving  nature,  a  devoted  son,  and 
a  loyal  friend,  unwearied  in  acts  of  kindness  and  generosity. 
His  ruling  passion,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  was  a  devotion  to 
letters,  and  he  determined  as  early  and  worked  as  diligently 
to  make  himself  a  poet  as  ever  Milton  did.  His  wretched  body 
was  dominated  by  a  high  and  eager  mind,  and  he  combined  in 
an  unparalleled  degree  the  fiery  energy  of  the  born  poet  with  the 
tireless  patience  of  the  trained  artist. 

But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  characteristic  of  Pope  is 
his  manly  independence.  In  an  age  when  almost  without  ex- 
ception his  fellow-writers  stooped  to  accept  a  great  man's  pat- 
ronage or  sold  their  talents  into  the  slavery  of  politics,  Pope 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION 

stood  aloof  from  patron  and  from  party.  He  repeatedly  de- 
clined offers  of  money  that  were  made  him,  even  when  no  con- 
dition was  attached.  He  refused  to  change  his  religion,  though 
he  was  far  from  being  a  devout  Catholic,  in  order  to  secure  a 
comfortable  place.  He  relied  upon  his  genius  alone  for  his 
support,  and  his  genius  gave  him  all  that  he  asked,  a  modest 
competency.  His  relations  with  his  rich  and  powerful  friends 
were  marked  by  the  same  independent  spirit.  He  never 
cringed  or  flattered,  but  met  them  on  even  terms,  and  raised 
himself  by  merit  alone  from  his  position  as  the  unknown  son 
of  an  humble  shopkeeper  to  be  the  friend  and  associate  of  the 
greatest  fortunes  and  most  powerful  minds  in  England.  It  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  the  career  of  a  man  of  letters  as  we 
know  it  to-day,  a  career  at  once  honorable  and  independent, 
takes  its  rise  from  the  life  and  work  of  Alexander  Pope. 

The  long  controversies  that  have  raged  about  Pope's  rank  as  a 
poet  seem  at  last  to  be  drawing  to  a  close;  and  it  has  become 
possible  to  strike  a  balance  between  the  exaggerated  praise  of 
his  contemporaries  and  the  reckless  depreciation  of  romantic 
critics.  That  he  is  not  a  poet  of  the  first  order  is  plain,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  that  he  never  produced  a  work  in  any 
of  the  greatest  forms  of  poetry.  The  drama,  the  epic,  the  lyric, 
were  all  outside  his  range.  On  the  other  hand,  unless  a  defini- 
tion of  poetry  be  framed  —  and  Dr.  Johnson  has  well  remarked 
that  "to  circumscribe  poetry  by  a  definition  will  only  show 
the  narrowness  of  thedefiner"  —  which  shall  exclude  all  gnomic 
and  satiric  verse,  and  so  debar  the  claims  of  Hesiod,  Juvenal, 
and  Boileau,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  Pope  is  a  true  poet. 
Certain  qualities  of  the  highest  poet  Pope  no  doubt  lacked, 
lofty  imagination,  intense  passion,  wide  human  sympathy. 
But  within  the  narrow  field  which  he  marked  out  for  his  own 
he  approaches  perfection  as  nearly  as  any  English  poet,  and 
Pope's  merit  consists  not.  merely  in  the  smoothness  of  his  verse 


INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

or  the  polish  of  separate  epigrams,  as  is  so  often  stated,  but 
quite  as  much  in  the  vigor  of  his  conceptions  and  the  unity  and 
careful  proportion  of  each  poem  as  a  whole.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  is  one  of  the  best-planned 
poems  in  any  language.  It  is  as  symmetrical  and  exquisitely 
finished  as  a  Grecian  temple. 

Historically  Pope  represents  the  fullest  embodiment  of  that 
spirit  which  began  to  appear  in  English  literature  about  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  call  the  "classical"  spirit.  In  essence  this  movement 
was  a  protest  against  the  irregularity  and  individual  Hcense 
of  earlier  poets.  Instead  of  far-fetched  wit  and  fanciful  diction, 
the  classical  school  erected  the  standards  of  common  sense  in 
conception  and  directness  in  expression.  And  in  so  doing  they 
restored  poetry  which  had  become  the  diversion  of  the  few  to  the 
possession  of  the  many.  Pope,  for  example,  is  preeminently 
the  poet  of  his  time.  He  dealt  with  topics  that  were  of  general 
interest  to  the  society  in  which  he  lived;  he  pictured  life  as 
he  saw  it  about  him.  And  this  accounts  for  his  prompt  and 
general  acceptance  by  the  world  of  his  day. 

For  the  student  of  English  hterature  Pope's  work  has  a  three- 
fold value.  It  represents  the  highest  achievement  of  one  of  the 
great  movements  in  the  developments  of  English  verse.  It  re- 
flects with  unerring  accuracy  the  life  and  thought  of  his  time 
—  not  merely  the  outward  life  of  beau  and  belle  in  the  days 
of  Queen  Anne,  but  the  ideals  of  the  age  in  art,  philosophy,  and 
politics.  And  finally  it  teaches  as  hardly  any  other  body  of 
English  verse  can  be  said  to  do,  the  perennial  value  of  conscious 
and  controlling  art.  Pope's  work  lives  and  will  live  while 
English  poetry  is  read,  not  because  of  its  inspiration,  imagina- 
tion, or  depth  of  thought,  but  by  its  unity  of  design,  vigor  of 
e.xpression,  and  perfection  of  finish  —  by  those  qualities,  in 
short,  which  show  the  poet  as  an  artist  in  verse. 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

CHIEF  DATES  IN   POPE'S  LIFE 

1688  Born,  May  21. 

1700  Moves  to  Binfield. 

1709  Pastorals. 

171 1  Essay  on  Criticism. 
1711-12  Contributes  to  Spectator. 

1 7 12  Rape  of  the  Lock,  first  form. 

1 7 13  Windsor  Forest. 

1 7 13  Issues  proposals  for  translation  of  Homer. 

1 7 14  Rape  of  the  Lock,  second  form. 

17 15  First  volume  of  the  Iliad. 
1 7 15  Temple  of  Fame. 

17 1 7  Pope's  father  dies. 

1717  Works,  including  some  new  poems. 

1 7 19  Settles  at  Twickenham. 

1720  Sixth  and  last  volume  of  the  Iliad. 
1722  Begins  translation  of  Odyssey. 

1725  Edits  Shakespeare. 

1726  Finishes  translation  of  Odyssey. 
1727-8  Miscellanies  by  Pope  and  Swift. 
1728-9  Dunciad. 

1 73 1-2  Moral  Essays:    Of  Taste,  Of  the  Use  of  Riches. 

1733-4  Essay  on  Man. 

1733-8  Satires  and  Epistles. 

1735  Works. 

1735  Letters  published  by  Curll. 

1 741  Works  in  Prose;  vol.  II.  includes  the  correspond- 

ence with  Swift. 

1742  Fourth  book  of  Dunciad. 
1742  Revised  Dunciad. 

1744  Died,  May  30. 

1751  First  collected  edition,  published  by  Warburton, 
9  vols. 


SELECTIONS    FROM    POPE 


THE   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK 

AN  HEROI-COMICAL  POEM 

Nolueram,  Belinda,  tuos  violare  capillos; 

Sed  juvat,  hoc  precibus  me  tribuisse  tuis.     Mart.     {.Epigr.  xii.  84.] 

TO   MRS.   ARABELLA   FERMOR 

Madam, 

It  will  be  in  vain  to  deny  that  I  have  some  regard  for  this  piece,  since  I 
dedicate  it  to  You.  Yet  you  may  bear  me  witness,  it  was  intended  only 
to  divert  a  few  young  Ladies,  who  have  good  sense  and  good  humour 
enough  to  laugh  not  only  at  their  sex's  little  unguarded  follies,  but  at 
their  own.  But  as  it  was  communicated  with  the  air  of  a  Secret,  it  soon 
found  its  way  into  the  world.  An  imperfect  copy  having  been  offer'd  to 
a  Bookseller,  you  had  the  good-nature  for  my  sake  to  consent  to  the 
publication  of  one  more  correct:  This  I  was  forc'd  to,  before  I  had  exe- 
cuted half  my  design,  for  the  Machinery  was  entirely  wanting  to  com- 
pleat  it. 

The  Machinery,  Madam,  is  a  term  invented  by  the  Critics,  to  signify 
that  part  which  the  Deities,  Angels,  or  Daemons  are  made  to  act  in  a 
Poem :  For  the  ancient  Poets  are  in  one  respect  like  many  modern  Ladies: 
let  an  action  be  never  so  trivial  in  itself,  they  always  make  it  appear  of  the 
utmost  importance.  These  Machines  I  determined  to  raise  on  a  very 
new  and  odd  foundation,  the  Rosicrucian  doctrine  of  Spirits. 

I  know  how  disagreeable  it  is  to  make  use  of  hard  words  before  a  Lady; 
but 't  is  so  much  the  concern  of  a  Poet  to  have  his  works  understood,  and 
particularly  by  your  Sex,  that  you  must  give  me  leave  to  explain  two  or 
three  difficult  terms. 

The  Rosicrucians  are  a  people  I  must  bring  you  acquainted  with.  The 
best  account  I  know  of  them  is  in  a  French  book  call'd  Le  Comte  de 
Gabalis,  which  both  in  its  title  and  size  is  so  like  a  Novel,  that  many  of 
the  Fair  Sex  have  read  it  for  one  by  mistake.  According  to  these  Gentle- 
men, the  four  Elements  are  inhabited  by  Spirits,  which  they  call  Sylphs, 
Gnomes,   Nymphs,    and   Salamanders.      The   Gnomes  or  Daemons    of 

3 


4  SELECTIONS  FROM  POPE 

Earth  delight  in  mischief ;  but  the  Sylphs,  whose  habitation  is  in  the  Air, 
are  the  best-condition' d  creatures  imaginable.  For  they  say,  any  mor- 
tals may  enjoy  the  most  intimate  familiarities  with  these  gentle  Spirits, 
upon  a  condition  very  easy  to  all  true  Adepts,  an  inviolate  preservation 
of  Chastity. 

As  to  the  following  Canto's,  all  the  passages  of  them  are  as  fabulous, 
as  the  Vision  at  the  beginning,  or  the  Transformation  at  the  end; 
(except  the  loss  of  your  Hair,  which  I  always  mention  with  reverence). 
The  Human  persons  are  as  fictitious  as  the  airy  ones ;  and  the  character 
of  Belinda,  as  it  is  now  manag'd,  resembles  you  in  nothing  but  in  Beauty. 

If  this  Poem  had  as  many  Graces  as  there  are  in  your  Person,  or  in  your 
Mind,  yet  I  could  never  hope  it  should  pass  thro'  the  world  half  so  Un- 
censur'd  as  You  have  done.  But  let  its  fortune  be  what  it  will,  mine  is 
happy  enough,  to  have  given  me  this  occasion  of  assuring  you  that  I  am, 
with  the  truest  esteem.  Madam, 

Your  most  obedient,  Humble  Servant, 

A.  Pope 


CANTO  I 

What  dire  offence  from  am'rous  causes  springs, 

What  mighty  contests  rise  from  trivial  things, 

I  sing  —  This  verse  to  Caryl,  Muse !   is  due : 

This,  ev'n  Belinda  may  vouchsafe  to  view: 

SHght  is  the  subject,  but  not  so  the  praise,  5 

If  She  inspire,  and  He  approve  my  lays. 

Say  what  strange  motive,  Goddess !  could  compel 
A  well-bred  Lord  t'  assault  a  gentle  Belle  ? 
O  say  what  stranger  cause,  yet  unexplor'd, 
Could  make  a  gentle  Belle  reject  a  Lord  ?  lo 

In  tasks  so  bold,  can  little  men  engage. 
And  in  soft  bosoms  dwells  such  mighty  Rage? 

Sol  thro'  white  curtains  shot  a  tim'rous  ray. 
And  oped  those  eyes  that  must  eclipse  the  day : 
Now  lap-dogs  give  themselves  the  rousing  shake,  15 

And  sleepless  lovers,  just  at  twelve,  awake : 
Thrice  rung  the  bell,  the  slipper  knock'd  the  ground, 
And  the  press'd  watch  return'd  a  silver  sound. 
BeHnda  still  her  downy  pillow  prest. 

Her  guardian  Sylph  prolong'd  the  balmy  rest:  20 

'T  was  He  had  summon'd  to  her  silent  bed 
The  morning-dream  that  hover'd  o'er  her  head ; 
A  Youth  more  gUtt'ring  than  a  Birth-night  Beau, 
(That  ev'n  in  slumber  caus'd  her  cheek  to  glow) 
Seem'd  to  her  ear  his  winning  Hps  to  lay,  25 

And  thus  in  whispers  said,  or  seem'd  to  say. 

Fairest  of  mortals,  thou  distinguish 'd  care 
Of  thousand  bright  Inhabitants  of  Air ! 

5 


6  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

If  e'er  one  vision  touch'd  thy  infant  thought, 

Of  all  the  Nurse  and  all  the  Priest  have  taught;  30 

Of  airy  Elves  by  moonlight  shadows  seen, 

The  silver  token,  and  the  circled  green. 

Or  virgins  visited  by  Angel-pow'rs, 

With  golden  crowns  and  wreaths  of  heav'nly  flow'rs ; 

Hear  and  believe !   thy  own  importance  know,  35 

Nor  bound  thy  narrow  views  to  things  below. 

Some  secret  truths,  from  learned  pride  conceal'd, 

To  Maids  alone  and  Children  are  reveal'd : 

What  tho'  no  credit  doubting  Wits  may  give  ? 

The  Fair  and  Innocent  shall  still  believe.  40 

Know,  then,  unnumber'd  Spirits  round  thee  fly, 

The  hght  MiUtia  of  the  lower  sky : 

These,  tho'  unseen,  are  ever  on  the  wing. 

Hang  o'er  the  Box,  and  hover  round  the  Ring. 

Think  what  an  equipage  thou  hast  in  Air,  4S 

And  view  with  scorn  two  Pages  and  a  Chair. 

As  now  your  own,  our  beings  were  of  old, 

And  once  inclos'd  in  Woman's  beauteous  mould ; 

Thence,  by  a  soft  transition,  we  repair 

From  earthly  Vehicles  to  these  of  air.  50 

Think  not,  when  Woman's  transient  breath  is  fled 

That  all  her  vanities  at  once  are  dead ; 

Succeeding  vanities  she  still  regards. 

And  tho'  she  plays  no  more,  o'erlooks  the  cards. 

Her  joy  in  gilded  Chariots,  when  alive,  55 

And  love  of  Ombre,  after  death  survive. 

For  when  the  Fair  in  all  their  pride  expire, 

To  their  first  Elements  their  Souls  retire: 

The  Sprites  of  fiery  Termagants  in  Flame 

Mount  up,  and  take  a  Salamander's  name.  60 

Soft  yielding  minds  to  Water  glide  away, 


THE   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK  7 

And  sip,  with  Nymphs,  their  elemental  Tea. 

The  graver  Prude  sinks  downward  to  a  Gnome, 

In  search  of  mischief  still  on  Earth  to  roam. 

The  Hght  Coquettes  in  Sylphs  aloft  repair,  65 

And  sport  and  flutter  in  the  fields  of  Air. 

' '  Know  further  yet ;  whoever  fair  and  chaste 
Rejects  mankind,  is  by  some  Sylph  embrac'd: 
For  Spirits,  freed  from  mortal  laws,  with  ease 
Assume  what  sexes  and  what  shapes  they  please.  70 

What  guards  the  purity  of  melting  Maids, 
In  courtly  balls,  and  midnight  masquerades, 
Safe  from  the  treach'rous  friend,  the  daring  spark, 
The  glance  by  day,  the  whisper  in  the  dark. 
When  kind  occasion  prompts  their  warm  desires,  75 

When  music  softens,  and  when  dancing  fires  ? 
'T  is  but  their  Sylph,  the  wise  Celestials  know, 
Tho'  Honour  is  the  word  with  Men  below. 

Some  nymphs  there  are,  too  conscious  of  their  face, 
For  life  predestin'd  to  the  Gnomes'  embrace.  80 

These  swell  their  prospects  and  exalt  their  pride. 
When  offers  are  disdain'd,  and  love  deny'd : 
Then  gay  Ideas  crowd  the  vacant  brain, 
While  Peers,  and  Dukes,  and  all  their  sweeping  train, 
And  Garters,  Stars,  and  Coronets  appear,  85 

And  in  soft  sounds.  Your  Grace  salutes  their  ear. 
'T  is  these  that  early  taint  the  female  soul. 
Instruct  the  eyes  of  young  Coquettes  to  roll. 
Teach  Infant-cheeks  a  bidden  blush  to  know. 
And  little  hearts  to  flutter  at  a  Beau.  90 

Oft,  when  the  world  imagine  women  stray. 
The  Sylphs  thro'  mystic  mazes  guide  their  way, 
Thro'  all  the  giddy  circle  they  pursue. 
And  old  impertinence  expel  by  new. 


8  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

What  tender  maid  but  must  a  victim  fall  9S 

To  one  man's  treat,  but  for  another's  ball  ? 

When  Florio  speaks  what  virgin  could  withstand, 

If  gentle  Damon  did  not  squeeze  her  hand  ? 

With  varying  vanities,  from  ev'ry  part, 

They  shift  the  moving  Toyshop  of  their  heart;  loo 

Where  wigs  with  wigs,  with  sword-knots  sword-knots  strive, 

Beaux  banish  beaux,  and  coaches  coaches  drive. 

This  erring  mortals  Levity  may  call ; 

Oh  bUnd  to  truth !   the  Sylphs  contrive  it  all. 

Of  these  am  I,  who  thy  protection  claim,  105 

A  watchful  sprite,  and  Ariel  is  my  name. 
Late,  as  I  rang'd  the  crystal  wilds  of  air, 
In  the  clear  Mirror  of  thy  ruHng  Star 
I  saw,  alas !  some  dread  event  impend. 

Ere  to  the  main  this  morning  sun  descend,  no 

But  heav'n  reveals  not  what,  or  how,  or  where : 
Warn'd  by  the  Sylph,  oh  pious  maid,  beware ! 
This  to  disclose  is  all  thy  guardian  can : 
Beware  of  all,  but  most  beware  of  Man ! " 

He  said ;  when  Shock,  who  thought  she  slept  too  long,         115 
Leap'd  up,  and  wak'd  his  mistress  with  his  tongue. 
'T  was  then,  Belinda,  if  report  say  true, 
Thy  eyes  first  open'd  on  a  Billet-doux; 
Wounds,  Charms,  and  Ardors  were  no  sooner  read. 
But  all  the  Vision  vanish'd  from  thy  head.  120 

And  now,  unveil'd,  the  Toilet  stands  display'd, 
Each  silver  Vase  in  mystic  order  laid. 
First,  rob'd  in  white,  the  Nymph  intent  adores. 
With  head  uncover'd,  the  Cosmetic  pow'rs. 
A  heav'nly  image  in  the  glass  appears,  125 

To  that  she  bends,  to  that  her  eyes  she  rears; 
Th'  inferior  Priestess,  at  her  altar's  side, 


THE   RAPE   OF  THE   LOCK  9 

Trembling  begins  the  sacred  rites  of  Pride. 

Unnumber'd  treasures  ope  at  once,  and  here 

The  various  off 'rings  of  the  world  appear;  130 

From  each  she  nicely  culls  with  curious  toil, 

And  decks  the  Goddess  with  the  glitt'ring  spoil. 

This  casket  India's  glowing  gems  unlocks, 

And  all  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box. 

The  Tortoise  here  and  Elephant  unite,  135 

Transform'd  to  combs,  the  speckled,  and  the  white. 

Here  files  of  pins  extend  their  shining  rows. 

Puffs,  Powders,  Patches,  Bibles,  Billet-doux. 

Now  awful  Beauty  puts  on  all  its  arms ; 

The  fair  each  moment  rises  in  her  charms,  140 

Repairs  her  smiles,  awakens  ev'ry  grace, 

And  calls  forth  all  the  wonders  of  her  face ; 

Sees  by  degrees  a  purer  blush  arise, 

And  keener  lightnings  quicken  in  her  eyes. 

The  busy  Sylphs  surround  their  darhng  care,  145 

These  set  the  head,  and  those  divide  the  hair, 

Some  fold  the  sleeve,  whilst  others  plait  the  gown ; 

And  Betty 's  prais'd  for  labours  not  her  own. 

CANTO  II 

Not  with  more  glories,  in  th'  etherial  plain, 

The  Sun  first  rises  o'er  the  purpled  main. 

Than,  issuing  forth,  the  rival  of  his  beams 

Launch'd  on  the  bosom  of  the  silver  Thames. 

Fair  Nymphs,  and  well-drest  Youths  around  her  shone,  s 

But  ev'ry  eye  was  fix'd  on  her  alone. 

On  her  white  breast  a  sparkHng  Cross  she  wore. 

Which  Jews  might  kiss,  and  Infidels  adore. 

Her  lively  looks  a  sprightly  mind  disclose, 


lO  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfix'd  as  those :  lo 

Favours  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends ; 

Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 

Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike, 

And,  like  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  aHke. 

Yet  graceful  ease,  and  sweetness  void  of  pride,  15 

Might  hide  her  faults,  if  Belles  had  fauhs  to  hide: 

If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall, 

Look  on  her  face,  and  you  '11  forget  'em  all. 

This  Nymph,  to  the  destruction  of  mankind, 
Nourish'd  two  Locks,  which  graceful  hung  behind  20 

In  equal  curls,  and  well  conspir'd  to  deck 
With  shining  ringlets  the  smooth  iv'ry  neck. 
Love  in  these  labyrinths  his  slaves  detains. 
And  mighty  hearts  are  held  in  slender  chains. 
With  hairy  springes  we  the  birds  betray,  25 

Slight  Hnes  of  hair  surprise  the  finny  prey. 
Fair  tresses  man's  imperial  race  ensnare, 
And  beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair. 

Th'  advent'rous  Baron  the  bright  locks  admir'd; 
He  saw,  he  wish'd,  and  to  the  prize  aspir'd.  30 

Resolv'd  to  win,  he  meditates  the  way. 
By  force  to  ravish,  or  by  fraud  betray; 
For  when  success  a  Lover's  toil  attends. 
Few  ask,  if  fraud  or  force  attain'd  his  ends. 

For  this,  ere  Phoebus  rose,  he  had  implor'd  35 

Propitious  heav'n,  and  ev'ry  pow'r  ador'd, 
But  chiefly  Love  —  to  Love  an  Altar  built. 
Of  twelve  vast  French  Romances,  neatly  gilt. 
There  lay  three  garters,  half  a  pair  of  gloves ; 
And  all  the  trophies  of  his  former  loves ;  40 

With  tender  Billet-doux  he  lights  the  pyre, 
And  breathes  three  am'rous  sighs  to  raise  the  fire. 


THE   RAPE   OF  THE   LOCK  li 

Then  prostrate  falls,  and  begs  with  ardent  eyes 

Soon  to  obtain,  and  long  possess  the  prize : 

The  pow'rs  gave  ear,  and  granted  half  his  pray'r,  45 

The  rest,  the  winds  dispers'd  in  empty  air. 

But  now  secure  the  painted  vessel  glides. 
The  sun-beams  trembling  on  the  floating  tides: 
While  melting  music  steals  upon  the  sky, 

And  soften 'd  sounds  along  the  waters  die ;  5° 

Smooth  flow  the  waves,  the  Zephyrs  gently  play, 
Behnda  smil'd,  and  all  the  world  was  gay. 
All  but  the  Sylph  —  with  careful  thoughts  opprest, 
Th'  impending  woe  sat  heavy  on  his  breast. 
He  summons  strait  his  Denizens  of  air;  55 

The  lucid  squadrons  round  the  sails  repair : 
Soft  o'er  the  shrouds  aerial  whispers  breathe. 
That  seem'd  but  Zephyrs  to  the  train  beneath. 
Some  to  the  sun  their  insect- wings  unfold. 
Waft  on  the  breeze,  or  sink  in  clouds  of  gold;  6o 

Transparent  forms,  too  fine  for  mortal  sight, 
Their  fluid  bodies  half  dissolv'd  in  Hght, 
Loose  to  the  wind  their  airy  garments  flew, 
Thin  glitt'ring  textures  of  the  filmy  dew. 

Dipt  in  the  richest  tincture  of  the  skies,  65 

Where  light  disports  in  ever-mingling  dyes, 
While  ev'ry  beam  new  transient  colours  flings. 
Colours  that  change  whene'er  they  wave  their  wings. 
Amid  the  circle,  on  the  gilded  mast, 

Superior  by  the  head,  was  Ariel  plac'd ;  70 

His  purple  pinions  op'ning  to  the  sun, 
He  rais'd  his  azure  wand,  and  thus  begun. 

Ye  Sylphs  and  Sylphids,  to  your  chief  give  ear ! 
Fays,  Fairies,  Genii,  Elves,  and  Daemons,  hear ! 
Ye  know  the  spheres  and  various  tasks  assign'd.  75 


12  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

By  laws  eternal  to  th'  aerial  kind. 

Some  in  the  fields  of  purest  ^ther  play, 

And  bask  and  whiten  in  the  blaze  of  day. 

Some  guide  the  course  of  wand 'ring  orbs  on  high, 

Or  roll  the  planets  thro'  the  boundless  sky.  80 

Some  less  refin'd,  beneath  the  moon's  pale  light 

Pursue  the  stars  that  shoot  athwart  the  night. 

Or  suck  the  mists  in  grosser  air  below, 

Or  dip  their  pinions  in  the  painted  bow. 

Or  brew  fierce  tempests  on  the  wintry  main,  85 

Or  o'er  the  glebe  distil  the  kindly  rain. 

Others  on  earth  o'er  human  race  preside. 

Watch  all  their  ways,  and  all  their  actions  guide : 

Of  these  the  chief  the  care  of  Nations  own. 

And  guard  with  Arms  divine  the  British  Throne.  90 

Our  humbler  province  is  to  tend  the  Fair, 
Not  a  less  pleasing,  tho'  less  glorious  care; 
To  save  the  powder  from  too  rude  a  gale, 
Nor  let  th'  imprison'd  essences  exhale ; 

To  draw  fresh  colours  from  the  vernal  flow'rs;  93 

To  steal  from  rainbows  e'er  they  drop  in  show'rs 
A  brighter  wash ;  to  curl  their  waving  hairs, 
Assist  their  blushes,  and  inspire  their  airs ; 
Nay  oft,  in  dreams,  invention  we  bestow, 
To  change  a  Flounce,  or  add  a  Furbelow,  100 

This  day,  black  Omens  threat  the  brightest  Fair, 
That  e'er  deserv'd  a  watchful  spirit's  care ; 
Some  dire  disaster,  or  by  force,  or  sUght ; 
But  what,  or  where,  the  fates  have  wrapt  in  night. 
Whether  the  nymph  shall  break  Diana's  law,  105 

Or  some  frail  China  jar  receive  a  flaw ; 
Or  stain  her  honour  or  her  new  brocade ; 
Forget  her  pray'rs,  or  miss  a  masquerade; 
Or  lose  her  heart,  or  necklace,  at  a  ball; 


THE   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK  13 

Or  whether  Heav'n  has  doom'd  that  Shock  must  fall.  no 

Haste,  then,  ye  spirits!  to  your  charge  repair: 

The  flutt'ring  fan  be  Zephyretta's  care ; 

The  drops  to  thee,  Brillante,  we  consign ; 

And,  Momentilla,  let  the  watch  be  thine ; 

Do  thou,  Crispissa,  tend  her  fav'rite  Lock;  ns 

Ariel  himself  shall  be  the  guard  of  Shock. 

To  fifty  chosen  Sylphs,  of  special  note, 
We  trust  th'  important  charge,  the  Petticoat : 
Oft  have  we  known  that  seven-fold  fence  to  fail, 
Tho'  stiff  with  hoops,  and  arm'd  with  ribs  of  whale ;  lao 

Form  a  strong  Hne  about  the  silver  bound. 
And  guard  the  wide  circumference  around. 

Whatever  spirit,  careless  of  his  charge. 
His  post  neglects,  or  leaves  the  fair  at  large, 
Shall  feel  sharp  vengeance  soon  o'ertake  his  sins,  125 

Be  stopp'd  in  vials,  or  transfix'd  with  pins ; 
Or  plung'd  in  lakes  of  bitter  washes  lie. 
Or  wedg'd  whole  ages  in  a  bodkin's  eye : 
Gums  and  Pomatums  shall  his  flight  restrain, 
While  clogg'd  he  beats  his  silken  wings  in  vain ;  130 

Or  Alum  styptics  with  contracting  pow'r 
Shrink  his  thin  essence  Hke  a  rivel'd  flow'r : 
Or,  as  Ixion  fix'd,  the  wretch  shall  feel 
The  giddy  motion  of  the  whirling  Mill, 

In  fumes  of  burning  Chocolate  shall  glow,  13s 

And  tremble  at  the  sea  that  froths  below ! 

He  spoke ;  the  spirits  from  the  sails  descend  ; 
Some,  orb  in  orb,  around  the  nymph  extend ; 
Some  thrid  the  mazy  ringlets  of  her  hair ; 
Some  hang  upon  the  pendants  of  her  ear :  140 

With  beating  hearts  the  dire  event  they  wait. 
Anxious,  and  trembling  for  the  birth  of  Fate. 


14  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

CANTO   III 

Close  by  those  meads,  for  ever  crown'd  with  flow'rs, 

Where  Thames  with  pride  surveys  his  rising  tow'rs, 

There  stands  a  structure  of  majestic  frame, 

Which  from  the  neighb'ring  Hampton  takes  its  name. 

Here  Britain's  statesmen  oft  the  fall  foredoom  S 

Of  foreign  Tyrants  and  of  Nymphs  at  home ; 

Here  thou,  great  Anna  !  whom  three  realms  obey. 

Dost  sometimes  counsel  take  —  and  sometimes  Tea. 

Hither  the  heroes  and  the  nymphs  resort, 
To  taste  awhile  the  pleasures  of  a  Court;  lo 

In  various  talk  th'  instructive  hours  they  past, 
Who  gave  the  ball,  or  paid  the  visit  last ; 
One  speaks  the  glory  of  the  British  Queen, 
And  one  describes  a  charming  Indian  screen; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes;  15 

At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies. 
Snufif,  or  the  fan,  supply  each  pause  of  chat, 
With  singing,  laughing,  ogling,  and  all  that. 

Mean  while,  declining  from  the  noon  of  day, 
The  sun  obHquely  shoots  his  burning  ray;  20 

The  hungry  Judges  soon  the  sentence  sign. 
And  wretches  hang  that  jury-men  may  dine; 
The  merchant  from  th'  Exchange  returns  in  peace, 
And  the  long  labours  of  the  Toilet  cease. 

Belinda  now,  whom  thirst  of  fame  invites,  25 

Burns  to  encounter  two  advent'rous  Knights, 
At  Ombre  singly  to  decide  their  doom ; 
And  swells  her  breast  with  conquests  yet  to  come. 
Straight  the  three  bands  prepare  in  arms  to  join, 
Each  band  the  number  of  the  sacred  nine.  30 


THE   RAPE    OF   THE   LOCK  15 

Soon  as  she  spreads  her  hand,  th'  aerial  guard 

Descend,  and  sit  on  each  important  card: 

First  Ariel  perch'd  upon  a  Matadore, 

Then  each,  according  to  the  rank  they  bore ; 

For  Sylphs,  yet  mindful  of  their  ancient  race,  35 

Are,  as  when  women,  wondrous  fond  of  place. 

Behold,  four  Kings  in  majesty  rever'd. 
With  hoary  whiskers  and  a  forky  beard ; 
And  four  fair  Queens  whose  hands  sustain  a  flow'r, 
Th'  expressive  emblem  of  their  softer  pow'r ;  40 

Four  Knaves  in  garbs  succinct,  a  trusty  band. 
Caps  on  their  heads,  and  halberts  in  their  hand ; 
And  particolour'd  troops,  a  shining  train, 
Draw  forth  to  combat  on  the  velvet  plain. 

The  skilful  Nymph  reviews  her  force  with  care:  45 

Let  Spades  be  trumps !   she  said,  and  trumps  they  were. 

Now  move  to  war  her  sable  Matadores, 
In  show  Uke  leaders  of  the  swarthy  Moors. 
Spadillio  first,  unconquerable  Lord  ! 

Led  off  two  captive  trumps,  and  swept  the  board.  50 

As  many  more  Manillio  forc'd  to  yield. 
And  march'd  a  victor  from  the  verdant  field. 
Him  Basto  foUow'd,  but  his  fate  more  hard 
Gain'd  but  one  trump  and  one  Plebeian  card. 
With  his  broad  sabre  next,  a  chief  in  years,  SS 

The  hoary  Majesty  of  Spades  appears. 
Puts  forth  one  manly  leg,  to  sight  reveal'd. 
The  rest,  his  many-colour'd  robe  conceal'd. 
The  rebel  Knave,  who  dares  his  prince  engage, 
Proves  the  just  victim  of  his  royal  rage.  60 

Ev'n  mighty  Pam,  that  Kings  and  Queens  o'erthrew 
And  mow'd  down  armies  in  the  fights  of  Lu, 
Sad  chance  of  war !  now  destitute  of  aid, 


l6  SELECTIONS   FROM    POPE 

Falls  undistinguish'd  by  the  victor  spade ! 

Thus  far  both  armies  to  BeHnda  yield ;  65 

Now  to  the  Baron  fate  inclines  the  field. 
His  warlike  Amazon  her  host  invades, 
Th'  imperial  consort  of  the  crown  of  Spades. 
The  Club's  black  Tyrant  first  her  victim  dy'd, 
Spite  of  his  haughty  mien,  and  barb'rous  pride:  70 

What  boots  the  regal  circle  on  his  head, 
His  giant  limbs,  in  state  unwieldy  spread ; 
That  long  behind  he  trails  his  pompous  robe. 
And,  of  all  monarchs,  only  grasps  the  globe  ? 

The  Baron  now  his  Diamonds  pours  apace ;  75 

Th'  embroider 'd  King  who  shows  but  half  his  face, 
And  his  refulgent  Queen,  with  pow'rs  combin'd 
Of  broken  troops  an  easy  conquest  find. 
Clubs,  Diamonds,  Hearts,  in  wild  disorder  seen, 
With  throngs  promiscuous  strow  the  level  green.  80 

Thus  when  dispers'd  a  routed  army  runs, 
Of  Asia's  troops,  and  Afric's  sable  sons. 
With  like  confusion  different  nations  fly, 
Of  various  habit,  and  of  various  dye. 

The  pierc'd  battaUons  dis-united  fall,  85 

In  heaps  on  heaps;  one  fate  o'erwhelms  them  all. 

The  Knave  of  Diamonds  tries  his  wily  arts, 
And  wins  (oh  shameful  chance !)  the  Queen  of  Hearts. 
At  this,  the  blood  the  virgin's  cheek  forsook, 
A  Uvid  paleness  spreads  o'er  all  her  look ;  90 

She  sees,  and  trembles  at  th'  approaching  ill. 
Just  in  the  jaws  of  ruin,  and  Codille. 
And  now  (as  oft  in  some  distemper'd  State) 
On  one  nice  Trick  depends  the  gen'ral  fate. 
An  Ace  of  Hearts  steps  forth :  The  King  unseen  95 

Lurk'd  in  her  hand,  and  mourn'd  his  captive  Queen : 


THE    RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK  17 

He  springs  to  Vengeance  with  an  eager  pace, 

And  falls  like  thunder  on  the  prostrate  Ace. 

The  nymph  exulting  fills  with  shouts  the  sky ; 

The  walls,  the  woods,  and  long  canals  reply.  100 

Oh  thoughtless  mortals !  ever  blind  to  fate, 
Too  soon  dejected,  and  too  soon  elate. 
Sudden,  these  honours  shall  be  snatch'd  away, 
And  curs'd  for  ever  this  victorious  day. 

For  lo !  the  board  with  cups  and  spoons  is  crown'd,  105 

The  berries  crackle,  and  the  mill  turns  round ; 
On  shining  Altars  of  Japan  they  raise 
The  silver  lamp ;  the  fiery  spirits  blaze : 
From  silver  spouts  the  grateful  liquors  glide. 
While  China's  earth  receives  the  smoking  tide:  no 

At  once  they  gratify  their  scent  and  taste. 
And  frequent  cups  prolong  the  rich  repast. 
Straight  hover  round  the  Fair  her  airy  band ; 
Some,  as  she  sipp'd,  the  fuming  liquor  fann'd. 
Some  o'er  her  lap  their  careful  plumes  display'd,  iiS 

Trembling,  and  conscious  of  the  rich  brocade. 
Coffee,  (which  makes  the  politician  wise. 
And  see  thro'  all  things  with  his  half-shut  eyes) 
Sent  up  in  vapours  to  the  Baron's  brain 

New  Stratagems,  the  radiant  Lock  to  gain.  120 

Ah  cease,  rash  youth !  desist  ere  't  is  too  late, 
Fear  the  just  Gods,  and  think  of  Scylla's  Fate ! 
Chang'd  to  a  bird,  and  sent  to  flit  in  air. 
She  dearly  pays  for  Nisus'  injur'd  hair  ! 

But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  will,  125 

How  soon  they  find  fit  instruments  of  ill ! 
Just  then,  Clarissa  drew  with  tempting  grace 
A  two-edg'd  weapon  from  her  shining  case: 
So  Ladies  in  Romance  assist  their  Knight, 


i8  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Present  the  spear,  and  arm  him  for  the  fight.  130 

He  takes  the  gift  with  rev'rence,  and  extends 

The  h'ttle  engine  on  his  fingers'  ends ; 

This  just  behind  BeHnda's  neck  he  spread, 

As  o'er  the  fragrant  steams  she  bends  her  head. 

Swift  to  the  Lock  a  thousand  Sprites  repair,  135 

A  thousand  wings,  by  turns,  blow  back  the  hair; 

And  thrice  they  twitch'd  the  diamond  in  her  ear ; 

Thrice  she  look'd  back,  and  thrice  the  foe  drew  near. 

Just  in  that  instant,  anxious  Ariel  sought 

The  close  recesses  of  the  Virgin's  thought;  140 

As  on  the  nosegay  in  her  breast  reclin'd, 

He  watch'd  th'  Ideas  rising  in  her  mind. 

Sudden  he  view'd,  in  spite  of  all  her  art, 

An  earthly  Lover  lurking  at  her  heart. 

Amaz'd,  confus'd,  he  found  his  pow'r  expir'd,  145 

Resign'd  to  fate,  and  with  a  sigh  retir'd. 

The  Peer  now  spreads  the  glitt'ring  Forfex  wide, 
T'  inclose  the  Lock ;  now  joins  it,  to  divide. 
£v'n  then,  before  the  fatal  engine  clos'd, 

K  wretched  Sylph  too  fondly  interpos'd ;  150 

jFate  urg'd  the  shears,  and  cut  the  Sylph  in  twain, 
(But  airy  substance  soon  unites  again) 
The  meeting  points  the  sacred  hair  dissever 
From  the  fair  head,  for  ever,  and  for  ever ! 

Then  flash'd  the  living  hghtning  from  her  eyes,  155 

And  screams  of  horror  rend  th'  affrighted  skies. 
Not  louder  shrieks  to  pitying  heav'n  are  cast, 
When  husbands,  or  when  lapdogs  breathe  their  last; 
Or  when  rich  China  vessels  fall'n  from  high. 
In  ghtt'ring  dust  and  painted  fragments  lie!  160 

Let  wreaths  of  triumph  now  my  temples  twine 
(The  victor  cry'd)  the  glorious  Prize  is  mine ! 


THE   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK  19 

While  fish  in  streams,  or  birds  delight  in  air. 

Or  in  a  coach  and  six  the  British  Fair, 

As  long  as  Atalantis  shall  be  read,  165 

Or  the  small  pillow  grace  a  Lady's  bed, 

While  visits  shall  be  paid  on  solemn  days, 

When  num'rous  wax-lights  in  bright  order  blaze. 

While  nymphs  take  treats,  or  assignations  give, 

So  long  my  honour,  name,  and  praise  shall  live !  170 

What  Time  would  spare,  from  Steel  receives  its  date, 

And  monuments,  like  men,  submit  to  fate ! 

Steel  could  the  labour  of  the  Gods  destroy. 

And  strike  to  dust  th'  imperial  tow'rs  of  Troy; 

Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound,  175 

And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground. 

What  wonder  then,  fair  nymph  !  thy  hairs  should  feel, 

The  conqu'ring  force  of  unresisted  steel? 

CANTO  IV 

But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  nymph  oppress'd, 

And  secret  passions  labour'd  in  her  breast. 

Not  youthful  kings  in  battle  seiz'd  alive. 

Not  scornful  virgins  who  their  charms  survive. 

Not  ardent  lovers  robb'd  of  all  their  bHss,  5 

Not  ancient  ladies  when  refus'd  a  kiss. 

Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die. 

Not  Cynthia  when  her  manteau's  pinn'd  awry. 

E'er  felt  such  rage,  resentment,  and  despair. 

As  thou,  sad  Virgin  !   for  thy  ravish'd  Hair.  10 

For,  that  sad  moment,  when  the  Sylphs  withdrew 
And  Ariel  weeping  from  Belinda  flew, 
,  Umbriel,  a  dusky,  melancholy  sprite, 
*^  As  ever  sully 'd  the  fair  face  of  light, 

yd 


20  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Down  to  the  central  earth,  his  proper  scene,  xj 

Repair'd  to  search  the  gloomy  Cave  of  Spleen. 

Swift  on  his  sooty  pinions  flits  the  Gnome, 
And  in  a  vapour  reach'd  the  dismal  dome. 
No  cheerful  breeze  this  sullen  region  knows, 
The  dreaded  East  is  all  the  wind  that  blows.  20 

Here  in  a  grotto,  shelter'd  close  from  air. 
And  screen'd  in  shades  from  day's  detested  glare, 
She  sighs  for  ever  on  her  pensive  bed. 
Pain  at  her  side,  and  Megrim  at  her  head. 

Two  handmaids  wait  the  throne :  alike  in  place,  25 

But  diff'ring  far  in  figure  and  in  face. 
Here  stood  Ill-nature  like  an  ancient  maid, 
Her  wrinkled  form  in  black  and  white  array'd ; 
With  store  of  pray'rs,  for  mornings,  nights,  and  noons, 
Her  hand  is  fiU'd ;  her  bosom  with  lampoons.  30 

There  Affectation,  with  a  sickly  mien. 
Shows  in  her  cheek  the  roses  of  eighteen, 
Practis'd  to  lisp,  and  hang  the  head  aside, 
Faints  into  airs,  and  languishes  with  pride, 
On  the  rich  quilt  sinks  with  becoming  woe,  35 

Wrapt  in  a  gown,  for  sickness,  and  for  show. 
The  fair  ones  feel  such  maladies  as  these. 
When  each  new  night-dress  gives  a  new  disease. 

A  constant  Vapour  o'er  the  palace  flies ; 
Strange  phantoms  rising  as  the  mists  arise;  40 

Dreadful,  as  hermit's  dreams  in  haunted  shades. 
Or  bright,  as  visions  of  expiring  maids. 
Now  glaring  fiends,  and  snakes  on  rolling  spires. 
Pale  spectres,  gaping  tombs,  and  purple  fires: 
Now  lakes  of  liquid  gold,  Elysian  scenes,  4S 

And  crystal  domes,  and  angels  in  machines. 

Unnumber'd  throngs  on  every  side  are  seen, 


THE   RAPE   OF   THE   LOCK  21 

Of  bodies  chang'd  to  various  forms  by  Spleen. 

Here  living  Tea-pots  stand,  one  arm  held  out, 

One  bent ;  the  handle  this,  and  that  the  spout :  ^o 

A  Pipkin  there,  Hke  Homer's  Tripod  walks; 

Here  sighs  a  Jar,  and  there  a  Goose-pie  talks ; 

Men  prove  with  child,  as  pow'rful  fancy  works, 

And  maids  turn'd  bottles,  call  aloud  for  corks. 

Safe  past  the  Gnome  thro'  this  fantastic  band,  55 

A  branch  of  heaUng  Spleenwort  in  his  hand. 
Then  thus  address'd  the  pow'r:   "  Hail,  wayward  Queen! 
Who  rule  the  sex  to  fifty  from  fifteen : 
Parent  of  vapours  and  of  female  wit. 

Who  give  th'  hysteric,  or  poetic  fit,  60 

On  various  tempers  act  by  various  ways, 
Make  some  take  physic,  others  scribble  plays; 
Who  cause  the  proud  their  visits  to  delay. 
And  send  the  godly  in  a  pet  to  pray. 

A  nymph  there  is,  that  all  thy  pow'r  disdains,  65 

And  thousands  more  in  equal  mirth  maintains. 
But  oh !  if  e'er  thy  Gnome  could  spoil  a  grace, 
Or  raise  a  pimple  on  a  beauteous  face. 
Like  Citron-waters  matrons  cheeks  inflame, 
Or  change  complexions  at  a  losing  game;  70 

If  e'er  with  airy  horns  I  planted  heads. 
Or  rumpled  petticoats,  or  tumbled  beds. 
Or  caus'd  suspicion  when  no  soul  was  rude. 
Or  discompos'd  the  head-dress  of  a  Prude, 
Or  e'er  to  costive  lap-dog  gave  disease,  75 

Which  not  the  tears  of  brightest  eyes  could  ease: 
Hear  me,  and  touch  Belinda  with  chagrin, 
That  single  act  gives  half  the  world  the  spleen." 

The  Goddess  with  a  discontented  air 
Seems  to  reject  him,  tho'  she  grants  his  pray'r.  80 


2i  SELECTIONS   FROM    POPE 

A  wond'rous  Bag  with  both  her  hands  she  binds, 

Like  that  where  once  Ulysses  held  the  winds ; 

There  she  collects  the  force  of  female  lungs, 

Sighs,  sobs,  and  passions,  and  the  war  of  tongues. 

A  Vial  next  she  fills  with  fainting  fears,  8s 

Soft  sorrows,  melting  griefs,  and  flowing  tears. 

The  Gnome  rejoicing  bears  her  gifts  away. 

Spreads  his  black  wings,  and  slowly  mounts  to  day. 

Sunk  in  Thalestris'  arms  the  nymph  he  found, 
Her  eyes  dejected  and  her  hair  unbound.  90 

Full  o'er  their  heads  the  swelling  bag  he  rent, 
And  all  the  Furies  issu'd  at  the  vent. 
Behnda  burns  with  more  than  mortal  ire, 
And  fierce  Thalestris  fans  the  rising  fire. 

"  O  wretched  maid !  "  she  spread  her  hands,  and  cry'd,         95 
(While  Hampton's  echoes,  "  Wretched  maid  !  "   reply'd) 
"  Was  it  for  this  you  took  such  constant  care 
The  bodkin,  comb,  and  essence  to  prepare? 
For  this  your  locks  in  paper  durance  bound. 
For  this  with  tort'ring  irons  wreath'd  around?  100 

For  this  with  fillets  strain'd  your  tender  head, 
And  bravely  bore  the  double  loads  of  lead  ? 
Gods !   shall  the  ravisher  display  your  hair. 
While  the  Fops  envy,  and  the  Ladies  stare ! 
Honour  forbid  !   at  whose  unrivall'd  shrine  105 

Ease,  pleasure,  virtue,  all  our  sex  resign. 
Methinks  already  I  your  tears  survey, 
Already  hear  the  horrid  things  they  say, 
Already  see  you  a  degraded  toast. 

And  all  your  honour  in  a  whisper  lost !  no 

How  shall  I,  then,  your  helpless  fame  defend? 
'T  will  then  be  infamy  to  seem  your  friend ! 
And  shall  this  prize,  th'  inestimable  prize, 


THE   RAPE    OF   THE   LOCK 


23 


Expos'd  thro'  crystal  to  the  gazing  eyes, 

And  heighten'd  by  the  diamond's  circling  rays,  115 

On  that  rapacious  hand  for  ever  blaze? 

Sooner  shall  gra-ss  in  Hyde-park  Circus  grow, 

And  wits  take  lodgings  in  the  sound  of  Bow; 

Sooner  let  earth,  air,  sea,  to  Chaos  fall, 

Meiij^^monkeys,  lap-dogs,  parrots,  perish  all !  "  lao 

She  said ;   then  raging  to  Sir  Plume  repairs, 
And  bids  her  Beau  demand  the  precious  hairs: 
(Sir  Plume  of  amber  snuff-box  justly  vain. 
And  the  nice  conduct  of  a  clouded  cane) 

With  earnest  eyes,  and  round  unthinking  face,  125 

He  first  the  snuff-box  open'd,  then  the  case, 
And  thus  broke  out —  "  My  Lord,  why,  what  the  devil? 
"  Z — ds  !  damn  the  lock  !  'fore  Gad,  you  must  be  civil ! 
"  Plague  on  't !  't  is  past  a  jest  —  nay  prithee,  pox ! 
'  Give  her  the  hair  "  —  he  spoke,  and  rapp'd  his  box.  130 

"  It  grieves  me  much  "  (reply'd  the  Peer  again) 
"  Who  speaks  so  well  should  ever  speak  in  vain. 
But  by  this  Lock,  this  sacred  Lock  I  swear, 
(Which  never  more  shall  join  its  parted  hair; 
Which  never  more  its  honours  shall  renew,  135 

CUpp'd  from  the  lovely  head  where  late  it  grew) 
That  while  my  nostrils  draw  the  vital  air. 
This  hand,  which  won  it,  shall  for  ever  wear." 
He  spoke,  and  speaking,  in  proud  triumph  spread 
The  long-contended  honours  of  her  head.  140 

But  Umbriel,  hateful  Gnome!   forbears  not  so; 
He  breaks  the  Vial  whence  the  sorrows  flow. 
Then  see !   the  nymph  in  beauteous  grief  appears, 
Her  eyes  half-languishing,  half-drown'd  in  tears; 
On  her  heav'd  bosom  hung  her  drooping  head,  145 

Which,  with  a  sigh,  she  rais'd;   and  thus  she  said. 


24  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

"For  ever  curs'd  be  this  detested  day, 
Which  snatch'd  my  best,  my  fav'rite  curl  away! 
Happy !   ah  ten  times  happy  had  I  been, 
If  Hampton-Court  these  eyes  had  never  seen!  15° 

Yet  am  not  I  the  first  mistaken  maid, 
By  love  of  Courts  to  num'rous  ills  betray'd. 
Oh  had  I  rather  un-admir'd  remain'd 
In  some  lone  isle,  or  distant  Northern  land; 
Where  the  gilt  Chariot  never  marks  the  way,  ^SS 

Where  none  learn  Ombre,  none  e'er  taste  Bohea ! 
There  kept  my  charms  conceal'd  from  mortal  eye, 

Like  roses,  that  in  deserts  bloom  and  die. 

What  mov'd  my  mind  with  youthful  Lords  to  roam? 

Oh  had  I  stay'd,  and  said  my  pray'rs  at  home !  160 

'T  was  this,  the  morning  omens  seem'd  to  tell. 

Thrice  from  my  trembUng  hand  the  patch-box  fell; 

The  tott'ring  China  shook  without  a  wind. 

Nay,  Poll  sat  mute,  and  Shock  was  most  unkind ! 

A  Sylph  too  warn'd  me  of  the  threats  of  fate,  165 

In  mystic  visions,  now  believ'd  too  late ! 

See  the  poor  remnants  of  these  slighted  hairs ! 

My  hands  shaU  rend  what  ev'n  thy  rapine  spares: 

These  in  two  sable  ringlets  taught  to  break, 

Once  gave  new  beauties  to  the  snowy  neck;  17° 

The  sister-lock  now  sits  uncouth,  alone. 

And  in  its  fellow's  fate  foresees  its  own ; 

Uncurl'd  it  hangs,  the  fatal  shears  demands, 

And  tempts  once  more  thy  sacrilegious  hands. 

Oh  hadst  thou,  cruel !  been  content  to  seize  i7S 

Hairs  less  in  sight,  or  any  hairs  but  these  1  " 


THE   RAPE   OF  THE   LOCK  25 

CANTO   V 

She  said :   the  pitying  audience  melt  in  tears. 

But  Fate  and  Jove  had  stopp'd  the  Baron's  ears. 

In  vain  Thalestris  with  reproach  assails, 

For  who  can  move  when  fair  Belinda  fails? 

Not  half  so  fix'd  the  Trojan  could  remain,  5 

While  Anna  begg'd  and  Dido  rag'd  in  vain. 

Then  grave  Clarissa  graceful  wav'd  her  fan; 

Silence  ensu'd,  and  thus  the  nymph  began. 

"  Say  why  are  Beauties  prais'd  and  honour 'd  most, 
The  wise  man's  passion,  and  the  vain  man's  toast?  10 

Why  deck'd  with  all  that  land  and  sea  afford. 
Why  Angels  call'd,  and  Angel-Uke  ador'd  ? 
Why  round  our  coaches  crowd  the  white-glov'd  Beaux, 
Why  bows  the  side-box  from  its  inmost  rows; 
How  vain  are  all  these  glories,  all  our  pains,  15 

Unless  good  sense  preserve  what  beauty  gains: 
That  men  may  say,  when  we  the  front-box  grace: 
'  Behold  the  first  in  virtue  as  in  face ! ' 
Oh !   if  to  dance  all  night,  and  dress  all  day, 
Charm'd  the  small-pox,  or  chas'd  old-age  away;  20 

Who  would  not  scorn  what  housewife's  cares  produce, 
Or  who  would  learn  one  earthly  thing  of  use? 
To  patch,  nay  ogle,  might  become  a  Saint, 
Nor  could  it  sure  be  such  a  sin  to  paint. 

But  since,  alas  !   frail  beauty  must  decay,  35 

Curl'd  or  uncurl'd,  since  Locks  will  turn  to  grey; 
Since  painted,  or  not  painted,  all  shall  fade. 
And  she  who  scorns  a  man,  must  die  a  maid; 
What  then  remains  but  well  our  pow'r  to  use. 
And  keep  good-humour  still  whate'er  we  lose?  3° 


26  SELECTIONS   FROM    POP^: 

And  trust  me,  dear !   good-humour  can  prevail, 
When  airs,  and  flights,  and  screams,  and  scolding  fail. 
Beauties  in  vain  their  pretty  eyes  may  roll; 
Charms  strike  the  sight,  but  merit  wins  the  soul." 

So  spoke  the  Dame,  but  no  applause  ensu'd ;  35 

BeUnda  frown'd,  Thalestris  call'd  her  Prude. 
"  To  arms,  to  arms !  "   the  fierce  Virago  cries, 
And  swift  as  lightning  to  the  combat  flies. 
All  side  in  parties,  and  begin  th'  attack; 

Fans  clap,  silks  rustle,  and  tough  whalebones  crack;  40 

Heroes'  and  Heroines'  shouts  confus'dly  rise, 
And  bass,  and  treble  voices  strike  the  skies. 
No  common  weapons  in  their  hands  are  found. 
Like  Gods  they  fight,  nor  dread  a  mortal  wound. 

So  when  bold  Homer  makes  the  Gods  engage,  45 

And  heav'nly  breasts  with  human  passions  rage; 
'Gainst  Pallas,  Mars;    Latona,  Hermes  arms; 
And  all  Olympus  rings  with  loud  alarms: 
Jove's  thunder  roars,  heav'n  trembles  all  around, 
Blue  Neptune  storms,  the  bellowing  deeps  resound :  50 

Earth  shakes  her  nodding  tow'rs,  the  ground  gives  way, 
And  the  pale  ghosts  start  at  the  flash  of  day ! 

Triumphant  Umbriel  on  a  sconce's  height 
Clapp'd  his  glad  wings,  and  sate  to  view  the  fight: 
Propp'd  on  the  bodkin  spears,  the  Sprites  survey  ■  55 

The  growing  combat,  or  assist  the  fray. 

While  thro'  the  press  enrag'd  Thalestris  flies. 
And  scatters  death  around  from  both  her  eyes, 
A  Beau  and  Withng  perish'd  in  the  throng, 
One  died  in  metaphor,  and  one  in  song.  60 

"  O  cruel  nymph !   a  living  death  I  bear," 
Cry'd  Dapperwit,  and  sunk  beside  his  chair. 
A  mournful  glance  Sir  Fopling  upwards  cast, 


THE   RAPE   OF  THE   LOCK  27 

"Those  eyes  are  made  so  killing"  —  was  his  last. 

Thus  on  Maeander's  flow'ry  margin  Ues  65 

Th'  expiring  Swan,  and  as  he  sings  he  dies. 

When  bold  Sir  Plume  had  drawn  Clarissa  down, 
Chloe  stepp'd  in,  and  kill'd  him  with  a  frown;  j 
She  smil'd  to  see  the  doughty  hero  slain,  / 

But,  at  her  smile,  the  Beau  reviv'd  again.  /  70 

Now  Jove  suspends  his  golden  scales  in  air, 
Weighs  the  Men's  wits  against  the  Lady's  hair; 
The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  side  to  side; 
At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  subside. 

See,  fierce  Behnda  on  the  Baron  flies,  75 

With  more  than  usual  lightning  in  her  eyes: 
Nor  fear'd  the  Chief  th'  unequal  fight  to  try, 
Who  sought  no  more  than  on  his  foe  to  die. 
But  this  bold  Lord  with  manly  strength  endu'd. 
She  with  one  finger  and  a  thumb  subdu'd:  80 

Just  where  the  breath  of  life  his  nostrils  drew, 
A  charge  of  Snuff  the  wily  virgin  threw; 
The  Gnomes  direct,  to  ev'ry  atom  just, 
The  pungent  grains  of  titillating  dust. 

Sudden,  with  starting  tears  each  eye  o'erflows,   |  85 

And  the  high  dome  re-echoes  to  his  nose. 

Now  meet  thy  fate,  incens'd  Belinda  cry'd, 
And  drew  a  deadly  bodkin  from  her  side. 
(The  same,  his  ancient  personage  to  deck, 
Her  great  great  grandsire  wore  about  his  neck,  90 

In  three  seal-rings;   which  after,  melted  down, 
Form'd  a  vast  buckle  for  his  widow's  gown: 
Her  infant  grandame's  whistle  next  it  grew, 
The  bells  she  jingled,  and  the  whistle  blew; 
Then  in  a  bodkin  grac'd  her  mother's  hairs,  95 

Which  long  she  wore,  and  now  Belinda  wears.) 


28  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

"Boast  not  my  fall"  (he  cry'd)  "insulting  foe! 
Thou  by  some  other  shalt  be  laid  as  low, 
Nor  think,  to  die  dejects  my  lofty  mind: 
All  that  I  dread  is  leaving  you  behind !  loo 

Rather  than  so,  ah  let  me  still  survive. 
And  burn  in  Cupid's  flames  —  but  bum  alive." 

"Restore  the  Lock!  "   she  cries;  and  all  around 
"  Restore  the  Lock ! "   the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 
Not  fierce  Othello  in  so  loud  a  strain  105 

Roar'd  for  the  handkerchief  that  caus'd  his  pain. 
But  see  how  oft  ambitious  aims  are  cross'd. 
And  chiefs  contend  'till  all  the  prize  is  lost ! 
The  Lock,  obtain'd  with  guilt,  and  kept  with  pain, 
In  ev'ry  place  is  sought,  but  sought  in  vain:  no 

With  such  a  prize  no  mortal  must  be  blest, 
So  heav'n  decrees !   with  heav'n  who  can  contest  ? 

Some  thought  it  mounted  to  the  Lunar  sphere. 
Since  all  things  lost  on  earth  are  treasur'd  there. 
There  Hero's  wits  are  kept  in  pond'rous  vases,  115 

And  beau's  in  snuff-boxes  and  tweezer-cases. 
There  broken  vows  and  death-bed  alms  are  found, 
And  lovers'  hearts  with  ends  of  riband  bound. 
The  courtier's  promises,  and  sick  man's  pray'rs, 
The  smiles  of  harlots,  and  the  tears  of  heirs,  120 

Cages  for  gnats,  and  chains  to  yoke  a  flea, 
Dry'd  butterflies,  and  tomes  of  casuistry. 

But  trust  the  Muse  —  she  saw  it  upward  rise, 
Tho'  mark'd  by  none  but  quick,  poetic  eyes: 
(So  Rome's  great  founder  to  the  heav'ns  withdrew,  las 

To  Proculus  alone  confess'd  in  view) 
A  sudden  Star,  it  shot  thro'  Uquid  air. 
And  drew  behind  a  radiant  trail  of  hair. 
Not  Berenice's  Locks  first  rose  so  bright, 


THE   RAPE   OF  THE  LOCK  29 

The  heav'ns  bespangling  with  dishevell'd  light.  130 

The  Sylphs  behold  it  kindUng  as  it  flies, 

And  pleas'd  pursue  its  progress  thro'  the  skies. 

This  the  Beau  monde  shall  from  the  Mall  survey, 
And  hail  with  music  its  propitious  ray. 

This  the  blest  Lover  shall  for  Venus  take,  13s 

And  send  up  vows  from  Rosamonda's  lake. 
This  Partridge  soon  shall  view  in  cloudless  skies, 
When  next  he  looks  thro'  Galileo's  eyes; 
And  hence  th'  egregious  wizard  shall  foredoom 
The  fate  of  Louis,  and  the  fall  of  Rome.  uo 

Then  cease,  bright  Nymph !   to  mourn  thy  ravish'd  hair. 
Which  adds  new  glory  to  the  shining  sphere ! 
Not  all  the  tresses  that  fair  head  can  boast. 
Shall  draw  such  envy  as  the  Lock  you  lost. 
For,  after  all  the  murders  of  your  eye,  14s 

When,  after  miUions  slain,  yourself  shall  die: 
When  those  fair  suns  shall  set,  as  set  they  must, 
And  all  those  tresses  shall  be  laid  in  dust. 
This  Lock,  the  Muse  shall  consecrate  to  fame. 
And  'midst  the  stars  inscribe  Belinda's  name.  150 


CONTENTS   OF  THE   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM 

Part  I 

Introduction.  That  His  as  great  a  fault  to  judge  ill,  as  to  write  ill,  and 
a  more  dangerous  one  to  the  public,  v.  i. 

That  a  true  Taste  is  as  rare  to  be  found,  as  a  true  Genius,  v.  g  to  i8. 

That  most  men  are  born  with  some  Taste,  but  spoiled  by  false  Education, 
V.  19  to  25. 

The  multitude  of  Critics,  and  causes  of  them,  v.  26  to  45. 

That  we  are  to  study  our  own  Taste,  and  know  the  Limits  of  it,  v.  46 
to  67. 

Nature  the  best  guide  of  Judgment,  v.  68  to  87. 

Improv'd  by  Art  and  Rules,  which  are  but  methodis'd  Nature,  88. 

Rules  derived  from  the  Practice  of  the  Ancient  Poets,  v.  id,  to  no. 

That  therefore  the  Ancients  are  necessary  to  be  studyd,  by  a  Critic,  par- 
ticularly Homer  and  Virgil,  v.  120  to  138. 

Of  Licenses,  and  the  use  of  them  by  the  Ancients,  v.  140  to  180. 

Reverence  due  to  the  Ancients,  and  praise  of  them,  v.  181,  etc. 

Part  II.     Ver.  201,  etc. 

Causes  hindering  a  true  Judgment,  i.  Pride,  v.  208.  2.  Imperfect 
Learning,  v.  215.  3.  Judging  by  parts,  and  not  by  the  whole,  v.  233  to 
288.  Critics  in  Wit,  Language,  Versification,  only,  v.  288,  305,  399,  etc. 
4.  Being  too  hard  to  please,  or  too  apt  to  admire,  v.  384.  5.  Partiality  — 
too  much  Love  to  a  Sect,  —  to  the  Ancients  or  Moderns,  v.  394.  6.  Preju- 
dice or  Prevention,  v.  408.  7.  Singularity,  v.  424,  8.  Inconstancy, 
V.  430.  9.  Party  Spirit,  v.  452,  etc.  10.  Envy,  v.  466.  Against  Envy, 
and  in  praise  of  Good-nature,  v.  508,  etc.  When  Severity  is  chiefly  to  be 
used  by  Critics,  v.  526,  etc. 

Part  HI.    Ver.  560,  etc. 

Rules  for  the  Conduct  of  Manners  in  a  Critic,  i.  Candour,  v.  563. 
Modesty,  v.  566.  Good-breeding,  v.  572.  Sincerity,  and  Freedom  of 
advice,  v.  578.  2.  When  one's  Counsel  is  to  be  restrained,  v.  584.  Char- 
acter of  an  incorrigible  Poet,  v.  600.  And  of  an  impertinent  Critic,  v.  610, 
etc.  Character  of  a  good  Critic,  v.  629.  The  History  of  Criticism,  and 
Characters  of  the  best  Critics,  Aristotle,  v.  645.  Horace,  v.  653.  Diony- 
sius,  v.  665.  Petronius,  v.  667.  Quintilian,  v.  670.  Longinus,  v.  675. 
Of  the  Decay  of  Criticism,  and  its  Revival.  Erasmus,  v.  693.  Vida, 
v.  705.     Boileau,  v.  714.     Lord  Roscommon,  etc.,  v.  725.     Conclusion. 

30 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM 

'Tis  hard  to  say,  if  greater  want  of  skill 

Appear  in  writing  or  in  judging  ill ; 

But,  of  the  two,  less  dang'rous  is  th'  offence 

To  tire  our  patience,  than  mislead  our  sense. 

Some  few  in  that,  but  numbers  err  in  this,  5 

Ten  censure  wrong  for  one  who  writes  amiss; 

A  fool  might  once  himself  alone  expose. 

Now  one  in  verse  makes  many  more  in  prose. 

'T  is  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches,  none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own.  lo 

In  Poets  as  true  genius  is  but  rare, 
True  Taste  as  seldom  is  the  Critic's  share ; 
Both  must  aUke  from  Heav'n  derive  their  light, 
These  born  to  judge,  as  well  as  those  to  write. 
Let  such  teach  others  who  themselves  excel,  15 

And  censure  freely  who  have  written  well. 
Authors  are  partial  to  their  wit,  't  is  true. 
But  are  not  Critics  to  their  judgment  too? 

Yet  if  we  look  more  closely,  we  shall  find 
Most  have  the  seeds  of  judgment  in  their  mind :  20 

Nature  affords  at  least  a  ghmm'ring  light; 
The  Unes,  tho'  touch'd  but  faintly,  are  drawn  right. 
But  as  the  shghtest  sketch,  if  justly  trac'd,  \ 
Is  by  ill-colouring  but  the  more  disgrac'd,  >- 
So  by  false  learning  is  good  sense  defac'd :  )  25 

Some  are  bewilder'd  in  the  maze  of  schools. 
And  some  made  coxcombs  Nature  meant  but  fools. 

31 


32  SELECTIONS  FROM   POPE 

In  search  of  wit  these  lose  their  common  sense, 

And  then  turn  Critics  in  their  own  defence: 

Each  burns  alike,  who  can,  or  cannot  write,  30 

Or  with  a  Rival's,  or  an  Eunuch's  spite. 

All  fools  have  still  an  itching  to  deride, 

And  fain  would  be  upon  the  laughing  side. 

If  Maevius  scribble  in  Apollo's  spite. 

There  are  who  judge  still  worse  than  he  can  write.  35 

Some  have  at  first  for  Wits,  then  Poets  past, 
Turn'd  Critics  next,  and  prov'd  plain  fools  at  last. 
Some  neither  can  for  Wits  nor  Critics  pass. 
As  heavy  mules  are  neither  horse  nor  ass. 
Those  half-learn'd  witHngs,  num'rous  in  our  isle,  40 

As  half-form'd  insects  on  the  banks  of  Nile ; 
Unfinish'd  things,  one  knows  not  what  to  call, 
Their  generation's  so  equivocal: 
To  tell  'em,  would  a  hundred  tongues  require, 
Or  one  vain  wit's,  that  might  a  hundred  tire.  45 

But  you  who  seek  to  give  and  merit  fame, 
And  justly  bear  a  Critic's  noble  name, 
Be  sure  yourself  and  your  own  reach  to  know, 
How  far  your  genius,  taste,  and  learning  go ; 
Launch  not  beyond  your  depth,  but  be  discreet,  50 

And  mark  that  point  where  sense  and  dulness  meet. 

Nature  to  all  things  fix'd  the  limits  fit. 
And  wisely  curb'd  proud  man's  pretending  wit. 
As  on  the  land  while  here  the  ocean  gains, 
In  other  parts  it  leaves  wide  sandy  plains;  55 

Thus  in  the  soul  while  memory  prevails. 
The  soUd  pow'r  of  understanding  fails; 
Where  beams  of  warm  imagination  play. 
The  memory's  soft  figures  melt  away. 
One  science  only  will  one  genius  fit;  60 


AN  ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM  33 

So  vast  is  art,  so  narrow  human  wit: 

Not  only  bounded  to  peculiar  arts, 

But  oft  in  those  confin'd  to  single  parts. 

Like  kings  we  lose  the  conquests  gain'd  before, 

By  vain  ambition  still  to  make  them  more;  65 

Each  might  his  sev'ral  province  well  command, 

Would  all  but  stoop  to  what  they  understand. 

First  follow  Nature,  and  your  judgment  frame 
By  her  just  standard,  which  is  still  the  same: 
Unerring  Nature,  still  divinely  bright,  7° 

One  clear,  unchang'd,  and  universal  hght. 
Life,  force,  and  beauty,  must  to  all  impart, 
At  once  the  source,  and  end,  and  test  of  Art. 
Art  from  that  fund  each  just  supply  provides. 
Works  without  show,  and  without  pomp  presides:  75 

In  some  fair  body  thus  th'  informing  soul 
With  spirits  feeds,  with  vigour  fills  the  whole, 
Each  motion  guides,  and  ev'ry  nerve  sustains; 
Itself  unseen,  but  in  th'  effects,  remains. 
Some,  to  whom  Heav'n  in  wit  has  been  profuse,  80 

Want  as  much  more,  to  turn  it  to  its  use ; 
For  wit  and  judgment  often  are  at  strife, 
The'  meant  each  other's  aid,  like  man  and  wife. 
'T  is  more  to  guide,  than  spur  the  Muse's  steed ; 
Restrain  his  fury,  than  provoke  his  speed ;  85 

The  winged  courser,  like  a  gen'rous  horse. 
Shows  most  true  mettle  when  you  check  his  course. 

Those  Rules  of  old  discovered,  not  devis'd. 
Are  Nature  still,  but  Nature  methodiz'd; 
Nature,  like  liberty,  is  but  restrain'd  90 

By  the  same  laws  which  first  herself  ordain'd. 

Hear  how  learn'd  Greece  her  useful  rules  indites. 
When  to  repress,  and  when  indulge  our  flights : 


34  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

High  on  Parnassus'  top  her  sons  she  show'd, 

And  pointed  out  those  arduous  paths  they  trod;  9,5 

Held  from  afar,  aloft,  th'  immortal  prize, 

And  urg'd  the  rest  by  equal  steps  to  rise. 

Just  precepts  thus  from  great  examples  giv'n, 

She  drew  from  them  what  they  deriv'd  from  Heav'n. 

The  gen'rous  Critic  fann'd  the  Poet's  fire,  100 

And  taught  the  world  with  reason  to  admire. 

Then  Criticism  the  Muse's  handmaid  prov'd. 

To  dress  her  charms,  and  make  her  more  belov'd : 

But  following  wits  from  that  intention  stray'd. 

Who  could  not  win  the  mistress,  woo'd  the  maid ;  105 

Against  the  Poets  their  own  arms  they  turn'd. 

Sure  to  hate  most  the  men  from  whom  they  learn'd. 

So  modern  'Pothecaries,  taught  the  art 

By  Doctor's  bills  to  play  the  Doctor's  part, 

Bold  in  the  practice  of  mistaken  rules,  no 

Prescribe,  apply,  and  call  their  masters  fools. 

Some  on  the  leaves  of  ancient  authors  prey, 

Nor  time  nor  moths  e'er  spoil'd  so  much  as  they. 

Some  drily  plain,  without  invention's  aid, 

Write  dull  receipts  how  poems  may  be  made.  115 

These  leave  the  sense,  their  learning  to  display, 

And  those  explain  the  meaning  quite  away. 

You  then  whose  judgment  the  right  course  would  steer, 
Know  well  each  Ancient's  proper  character; 
His  fable,  subject,  scope  in  ev'ry  page;  120 

Religion,  Country,  genius  of  his  Age : 
Without  all  these  at  once  before  your  eyes, 
Cavil  you  may,  but  never  criticize. 
Be  Homer's  works  your  study  and  delight, 
Read  them  by  day,  and  meditate  by  night;  125 

Thence  form  your  judgment,  thence  your  maxims  brings 


AN   ESSAY   ON    CRITICISM  35 

And  trace  the  Muses  upward  to  their  spring. 
Still  with  itself  compar'd,  his  text  peruse; 
And  let  your  comment  be  the  Mantuan  Muse. 

When  first  young  Maro  in  his  boundless  mind  130 

A  work  t'  outlast  immortal  Rome  design'd, 
Perhaps  he  seem'd  above  the  critic's  law, 
And  but  from  Nature's  fountains  scorn'd  to  draw: 
But  when  t'  examine  ev'ry  part  he  came, 

Nature  and  Homer  were,  he  found,  the  same.  135 

Convinc'd,  amaz'd,  he  checks  the  bold  design; 
And  rules  as  strict  his  labour'd  work  confine. 
As  if  the  Stagirite  o'erlook'd  each  line. 
Learn  hence  for  ancient  rules  a  just  esteem ; 
To  copy  nature  is  to  copy  them.  140 

Some  beauties  yet  no  Precepts  can  declare, 
For  there's  a  happiness  as  well  as  care. 
Music  resembles  Poetry,  in  each 
Are  nameless  graces  which  no  methods  teach, 
And  which  a  master-hand  alone  can  reach.       )  ^45 

If,  where  the  rules  not  far  enough  extend, 
(Since  rules  were  made  but  to  promote  their  end) 
Some  lucky  Licence  answer  to  the  full 
Th'  intent  propos'd,  that  Licence  is  a  rule. 
Thus  Pegasus,  a  nearer  way  to  take,  15Q 

May  boldly  deviate  from  the  common  track; 
From  vulgar  bounds  with  brave  disorder  part, 
And  snatch  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art, 
Which  without  passing  thro'  the  judgment,  gains 
The  heart,  and  all  its  end  at  once  attains.  iss 

In  prospects  thus,  some  objects  please  our  eyes. 
Which  out  of  nature's  common  order  rise, 
The  shapeless  rock,  or  hanging  precipice. 
Great  wits  sometimes  may  gloriously  offend, 


36  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

And  rise  to  faults  true  Critics  dare  not  mend.  160 

But  tho'  the  Ancients  thus  their  rules  invade, 

(As  Kings  dispense  with  laws  themselves  have  made) 

Moderns,  beware !   or  if  you  must  offend 

Against  the  precept,  ne'er  transgress  its  End ; 

Let  it  be  seldom,  and  compell'd  by  need ;  165 

And  have,  at  least,  their  precedent  to  plead. 

The  Critic  else  proceeds  without  remorse, 

Seizes  your  fame,  and  puts  his  laws  in  force. 

I  know  there  are,  to  whose  presumptuous  thoughts 
Those  freer  beauties,  ev'n  in  them,  seem  faults.  170 

Some  figures  monstrous  and  mis-shap'd  appear, 
Consider'd  singly,  or  beheld  too  near. 
Which,  but  proportion'd  to  their  Ught,  or  place, 
Due  distance  reconciles  to  form  and  grace. 
A  prudent  chief  not  always  must  display  175 

His  pow'rs  in  equal  ranks,  and  fair  array. 
But  with  th'  occasion  and  the  place  comply, 
Conceal  his  force,  nay  seem  sometimes  to  fly. 
Those  oft  are  stratagems  which  error  seem, 
Nor  is  it  Homer  nods,  but  we  that  dream.  180 

Still  green  with  bays  each  ancient  Altar  stands, 
Above  the  reach  of  sacrilegious  hands; 
Secure  from  Flames,  from  Envy's  fiercer  rage. 
Destructive  War,  and  all-involving  Age. 
See,  from  each  clime  the  learn'd  their  incense  bring!  185 

Hear,  in  all  tongues  consenting  Paeans  ring ! 
In  praise  so  just  let  ev'ry  voice  be  join'd. 
And  fill  the  gen'ral  chorus  of  mankind. 
Hail,  Bards  triumphant!   born  in  happier  days; 
Immortal  heirs  of  universal  praise !  190 

Whose  honours  with  increase  of  ages  grow, 
As  streams  roll  down,  enlarging  as  they  flow ; 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  37 

Nations  unborn  your  mighty  names  shall  sound, 

And  worlds  applaud  that  must  not  yet  be  found ! 

Oh  may  some  spark  of  your  celestial  fire,  195 

The  last,  the  meanest  of  your  sons  inspire, 

(That  on  weak  wings,  from  far,  pursues  your  flights; 

Glows  while  he  reads,  but  trembles  as  he  writes) 

To  teach  vain  Wits  a  science  little  known, 

T'  admire  superior  sense,  and  doubt  their  own !  200 

Of  all  the  Causes  which  conspire  to  blind 
Man's  erring  judgment,  and  misguide  the  mind, 
What  the  weak  head  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
Is  Pride,  the  never-failing  voice  of  fools. 

Whatever  nature  has  in  worth  denied,  305 

She  gives  in  large  recruits  of  needful  pride; 
For  as  in  bodies,  thus  in  souls,  we  find 
What  wants  in  blood  and  spirits,  swell'd  with  wind: 
Pride,  where  wit  fails,  steps  in  to  our  defence, 
And  fills  up  all  the  mighty  Void  of  sense.  210 

If  once  right  reason  drives  that  cloud  away, 
Truth  breaks  upon  us  with  resistless  day. 
Trust  not  yourself;  but  your  defects  to  know, 
Make  use  of  ev'ry  friend  —  and  ev'ry  foe. 

A  little  learning  is  a  dang'rous  thing;  315 

Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring. 
There  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 
And  drinking  largely  sobers  us  again. 
Fir'd  at  first  sight  with  what  the  Muse  imparts. 
In  fearless  youth  we  tempt  the  heights  of  Arts,  aao 

While  from  the  bounded  level  of  our  mind 
Short  views  we  take,  nor  see  the  lengths  behind ; 
But  more  advanc'd,  behold  with  strange  surprise 
New  distant  scenes  of  endless  science  rise  I 


38  SELECTIONS   FROM    POPE 

So  pleas'd  at  first  the  tow'ring  Alps  we  try,  225 

Mount  o'er  the  vales,  and  seem  to  tread  the  sky, 

Th'  eternal  snows  appear  already  past, 

And  the  first  clouds  and  mountains  seem  the  last; 

But,  those  attain'd,  we  tremble  to  survey 

The  growing  labours  of  the  lengthen'd  way,  230 

Th'  increasing  prospect  tires  our  wand'ring  eyes, 

Hills  peep  o'er  hills,  and  Alps  on  Alps  arise ! 

A  perfect  Judge  will  read  each  work  of  Wit 
With  the  same  spirit  that  its  author  writ: 
Survey  the  Whole,  nor  seek  shght  faults  to  find  535 

Where  nature  moves,  and  rapture  warms  the  mind; 
Nor  lose,  for  that  mahgnant  dull  delight. 
The  gen'rous  pleasure  to  be  charm'd  with  Wit. 
But  in  such  lays  as  neither  ebb,  nor  flow, 
Correctly  cold,  and  regularly  low,  240 

That  shunning  faults,  one  quiet  tenour  keep, 

We  cannot  blame  indeed but  we  may  sleep. 

In  wit,  as  nature,  what  affects  our  hearts 

Is  not  th'  exactness  of  peculiar  parts; 

'T  is  not  a  lip,  or  eye,  we  beauty  call,  245 

But  the  joint  force  and  full  result  of  all. 

Thus  when  we  view  some  well-proportion'd  dome, 

(The  world's  just  wonder,  and  ev'n  thine,  O  Rome !) 

No  single  parts  unequally  surprize, 

All  comes  united  to  th'  admiring  eyes;  250 

No  monstrous  height,  or  breadth,  or  length  appear; 

The  Whole  at  once  is  bold,  and  regular. 

Whoever  thinks  a  faultless  piece  to  see. 
Thinks  what  ne'er  was,  nor  is,  nor  e'er  shall  be. 
In  every  work  regard  the  writer's  End,  255 

Since  none  can  compass  more  than  they  intend; 
And  if  the  means  be  just,  the  conduct  true, 


AN    ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  39 

Applause,  in  spight  of  trivial  faults,  is  due; 

As  men  of  breeding,  sometimes  men  of  wit, 

T'  avoid  great  errors,  must  the  less  commit:  260 

Neglect  the  rules  each  verbal  Critic  lays. 

For  not  to  know  some  trifles,  is  a  praise. 

Most  Critics,  fond  of  some  subservient  art, 

Still  make  the  Whole  depend  upon  a  Part : 

They  talk  of  principles,  but  notions  prize,  265 

And  all  to  one  lov'd  Folly  sacrifice. 

Once  on  a  time.  La  Mancha's  Knight,  they  say, 
A  certain  bard  encount'ring  on  the  way, 
Discours'd  in  terms  as  just,  with  looks  as  sage. 
As  e'er  could  Dennis  of  the  Grecian  stage;  270 

Concluding  all  were  desp'rate  sots  and  fools, 
Who  durst  depart  from  Aristotle's  rules. 
Our  Author,  happy  in  a  judge  so  nice, 
Produc'd  his  Play,  and  begg'd  the  Knight's  advice; 
Made  him  observe  the  subject,  and  the  plot,  275 

The  manners,  passions,  unities;    what  not? 
All  which,  exact  to  rule,  were  brought  about. 
Were  but  a  Combat  in  the  lists  left  out. 
"What!   leave  the  Combat  out?"  exclaims  the  Knight; 
Yes,  or  we  must  renounce  the  Stagirite.  280 

"Not  so,  by  Heav'n"  (he  answers  in  a  rage), 
"  Knights,  squires,  and  steeds,  must  enter  on  the  stage." 
So  vast  a  throng  the  stage  can  ne'er  contain. 
"Then  build  a  new,  or  act  it  in  a  plain." 

Thus  Critics,  of  less  judgment  than  caprice,  285 

Curious  not  knowing,  not  exact  but  nice, 
Form  short  Ideas;   and  offend  in  arts 
(As  most  in  manners)  by  a  love  to  parts. 

Some  to  Conceit  alone  their  taste  confine, 
And  glitt'ring  thoughts  struck  out  at  ev'ry  line;  290 


40  SELECTIONS  FROM   POPE 

Pleas'd  with  a  work  where  nothing  's  just  or  fit; 

One  glaring  Chaos  and  wild  heap  of  wit. 

Poets  like  painters,  thus,  unskill'd  to  trace 

The  naked  nature  and  the  living  grace, 

With  gold  and  jewels  cover  ev'ry  part,  295 

And  hide  with  ornaments  their  want  of  art. 

True  Wit  is  Nature  to  advantage  dress'd, 

What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  express'd ; 

Something,  whose  truth  convinc'd  at  sight  we  find, 

That  gives  us  back  the  image  of  our  mind.  300 

As  shades  more  sweetly  recommend  the  light, 

So  modest  plainness  sets  off  sprightly  wit. 

For  works  may  have  more  wit  than  does  'em  good, 

As  bodies  perish  thro'  excess  of  blood. 

Others  for  Language  all  their  care  express,  305 

And  value  books,  as  women  men,  for  Dress: 
Their  praise  is  still  —  the  Style  is  excellent : 
The  Sense,  they  humbly  take  upon  content. 
Words  are  hke  leaves ;  and  where  they  most  abound. 
Much  fruit  of  sense  beneath  is  rarely  found,  310 

False  Eloquence,  hke  the  prismatic  glass, 
Its  gaudy  colours  spreads  on  ev'ry  place; 
The  face  of  Nature  we  no  more  survey. 
All  glares  alike,  without  distinction  gay: 
But  true  expression,  hke  th'  unchanging  Sun,  )  315 

Clears  and  improves  whate'er  it  shines  upon. 
It  gilds  all  objects,  but  it  alters  none. 
Expression  is  the  dress  of  thought,  and  still 
Appears  more  decent,  as  more  suitable; 
A  vile  conceit  in  pompous  words  express'd,  320 

Is  like  a  clown  in  regal  purple  dress'd : 
For  diff'rent  styles  with  diff'rent  subjects  sort, 
As  several  garbs  with  country,  town,  and  court. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  41 

Some  by  old  words  to  fame  have  made  pretence, 

Ancients  in  phrase,  mere  moderns  in  their  sense;  325 

Such  labour'd  nothings,  in  so  strange  a  style, 

Amaze  th'  unlearn'd,  and  make  the  learned  smile. 

Unlucky,  as  Fungoso  in  the  play,  \ 

These  sparks  with  awkward  vanity  display  >• 

What  the  fine  gentleman  wore  yesterday ;     )  330 

And  but  so  mimic  ancient  wits  at  best, 

As  apes  our  grandsires,  in  their  doublets  drest. 

In  words,  as  fashions,  the  same  rule  will  hold; 

Alike  fantastic,  if  too  new,  or  old: 

Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  try'd,  335 

Nor  yet  the  last  to  lay  the  old  aside. 

But  most  by  Numbers  judge  a  Poet's  song; 
And  smooth  or  rough,  with  them  is  right  or  wrong: 
In  the  bright  Muse  though  thousand  charms  conspire, 
Her  voice  is  all  these  tuneful  fools  admire ;  340 

Who  haunt  Parnassus  but  to  please  their  ear, 
Not  mend  their  minds ;   as  some  to  Church  repair 
Not  for  the  doctrine,  but  the  music  there. 
These  equal  syllables  alone  require. 

The'  oft  the  ear  the  open  vowels  tire;  345 

While  expletives  their  feeble  aid  do  join; 
And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line: 
While  they  ring  round  the  same  unvary'd  chimes, 
With  sure  returns  of  still  expected  rhymes ; 
Where-e'er  you  find  "the  cooling  western  breeze,"  350 

In  the  next  line,  it  "whispers  through  the  trees:" 
If  crystal  streams  "with  pleasing  murmurs  creep," 
The  reader's  threaten'd  (not  in  vain)  with  "sleep:" 
Then,  at  the  last  and  only  couplet  fraught 
With  some  unmeaning  thing  they  call  a  thought,  355 

A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song 


42  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

That,  like  a  wounded  snake,  drags  its  slow  length  along. 

Leave  such  to  tune  their  own  dull  rhymes,  and  know 

What  's  roundly  smooth  or  languishingly  slow; 

And  praise  the  easy  vigour  of  a  line,  360 

Where  Denham's  strength,  and  Waller's  sweetness  join. 

True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance. 

As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learn 'd  to  dance. 

'T  is  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence, 

The  sound  must  seem  an  Echo  to  the  sense:  365 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows; 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore. 

The  hoarse,  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar: 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw,  370 

The  line  too  labours,  and  the  words  move  slow; 

Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Flies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

Hear  how  Timotheus'  varied  lays  surprize, 

And  bid  alternate  passions  fall  and  rise!  375 

While,  at  each  change,  the  son  of  Libyan  Jove 

Now  burns  with  glory,  and  then  melts  with  love, 

Now  his  fierce  eyes  with  sparkling  fury  glow, 

Now  sighs  steal  out,  and  tears  begin  to  flow: 

Persians  and  Greeks  like  turns  of  nature  found,  380 

And  the  world's  victor  stood  subdu'd  by  Sound ! 

The  pow'r  of  Music  all  our  hearts  allow, 

And  what  Timotheus  was,  is  Dryden  now. 

Avoid  Extremes;  and  shun  the  fault  of  such. 
Who  still  are  pleas'd  too  little  or  too  much.  385 

At  ev'ry  trifle  scorn  to  take  offence. 
That  always  shows  great  pride,  or  little  sense; 
Those  heads,  as  stomachs,  are  not  sure  the  best. 
Which  nauseate  all,  and  nothing  can  digest.. 


AN    ESSAY   ON    CRITICISM  43 

Yet  let  not  each  gay  Turn  thy  rapture  move;  390 

For  fools  admire,  but  men  of  sense  approve: 
As  things  seem  large  which  we  thro'  mists  descry, 
Dulness  is  ever  apt  to  magnify. 

Some  foreign  writers,  some  our  own  despise; 
The  Ancients  only,  or  the  Moderns  prize.  395 

Thus  Wit,  like  Faith,  by  each  man  is  apply'd 
To  one  small  sect,  and  all  are  damn'd  beside. 
Meanly  they  seek  the  blessing  to  confine, 
And  force  that  sun  but  on  a  part  to  shine, 
Which  not  alone  the  southern  wit  subHmes,  4°° 

But  ripens  spirits  in  cold  northern  climes; 
Which  from  the  first  has  shone  on  ages  past, 
Enlights  the  present,  and  shall  warm  the  last; 
Tho'  each  may  feel  increases  and  decays, 
And  see  now  clearer  and  now  darker  days.  405 

Regard  not  then  if  Wit  be  old  or  new, 
But  blame  the  false,  and  value  still  the  true. 

Some  ne'er  advance  a  Judgment  of  their  own, 
But  catch  the  spreading  notion  of  the  Town ; 
They  reason  and  conclude  by  precedent,  410 

And  own  stale  nonsense  which  they  ne'er  invent. 
Some  judge  of  author's  names,  not  works,  and  then 
Nor  praise  nor  blame  the  writings,  but  the  men. 
Of  all  this  servile  herd  the  worst  is  he 

That  in  proud  dulness  joins  with  Quality,  415 

A  constant  Critic  at  the  great  man's  board, 
To  fetch  and  carry  nonsense  for  my  Lord. 
What  woful  stuff  this  madrigal  would  be. 
In  some  starv'd  hackney  sonneteer,  or  me? 
But  let  a  Lord  once  own  the  happy  Hues,  42° 

How  the  wit  brightens !   how  the  style  refines ! 
Before  his  sacred  name  flies  ev'ry  fault, 


44  SELECTIONS  FROM   POPE 

And  each  exalted  stanza  teems  with  thought ! 

The  Vulgar  thus  through  Imitation  err; 
As  oft  the  Learn'd  by  being  singular;  425 

So  much  they  scorn  the  crowd,  that  if  the  throng 
By  chance  go  right,  they  purposely  go  wrong ; 
So  Schismatics  the  plain  beUevers  quit, 
And  are  but  damn'd  for  having  too  much  wit. 
Some  praise  at  morning  what  they  blame  at  night;  43° 

But  always  think  the  last  opinion  right. 
A  Muse  by  these  is  like  a  mistress  us'd, 
This  hour  she's  idoliz'd,  the  next  abus'd; 
While  their  weak  heads  like  towns  unfortify'd, 
'Twixt  sense  and  nonsense  daily  change  their  side.  43s 

Ask  them  the  cause ;   they're  wiser  still,  they  say ; 
And  still  to-morrow's  wiser  than  to-day. 
We  think  our  fathers  fools,  so  wise  we  grow, 
Our  wiser  sons,  no  doubt,  will  think  us  so. 
Once  School-divines  this  zealous  isle  o'er-spread;  440 

Who  knew  most  Sentences,  was  deepest  read ; 
Faith,  Gospel,  all,  seem'd  made  to  be  disputed, 
And  none  had  sense  enough  to  be  confuted : 
Scotists  and  Thomists,  now,  in  peace  remain, 
Amidst  their  kindred  cobwebs  in  Duck-lane.  445 

If  Faith  itself  has  diff'rent  dresses  worn. 
What  wonder  modes  in  Wit  should  take  their  turn? 
Oft',  leaving  what  is  natural  and  fit, 
The  current  folly  proves  the  ready  wit; 

And  authors  think  their  reputation  safe,  450 

Which  lives  as  long  as  fools  are  pleas'd  to  laugh. 

Some  valuing  those  of  their  own  side  or  mind, 
Still  make  themselves  the  measure  of  mankind : 
Fondly  we  think  we  honour  merit  then. 
When  we  but  praise  ourselves  in  other  men.  4SS 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  45 

Parties  in  Wit  attend  on  those  of  State, 
And  public  faction  doubles  private  hate. 
Pride,  Malice,  Folly,  against  Dryden  rose, 
In  various  shapes  of  Parsons,  Critics,  Beaus; 
But  sense  surviv'd,  when  merry  jests  were  past;  460 

For  rising  merit  will  buoy  up  at  last. 
Might  he  return,  and  bless  once  more  our  eyes. 
New  Blackmores  and  new  Milbourns  must  arise: 
Nay  should  great  Homer  lift  his  awful  head, 
Zoilus  again  would  start  up  from  the  dead.  465 

Envy  will  merit,  as  its  shade,  pursue; 
But  like  a  shadow,  proves  the  substance  true; 
For  envy'd  Wit,  like  Sol  eclips'd,  makes  known 
Th'  opposing  body's  grossness,  not  its  own, 
When  first  that  sun  too  pow'rful  beams  displays,  470 

It  draws  up  vapours  which  obscure  its  rays; 
But  ev'n  those  clouds  at  last  adorn  its  way, 
Reflect  new  glories,  and  augment  the  day. 
Be  thou  the  first  true  merit  to  befriend; 
His  praise  is  lost,  who  stays,  till  all  commend.  475 

Short  is  the  date,  alas,  of  modern  rhymes, 
And  't  is  but  just  to  let  them  Uve  betimes. 
No  longer  now  that  golden  age  appears. 
When  Patriarch- wits  surviv'd  a  thousand  years: 
Now  length  of  Fame  (our  second  life)  is  lost,  480 

And  bare  threescore  is  all  ev'n  that  can  boast; 
Our  sons  their  fathers'  failing  language  see. 
And  such  as  Chaucer  is,  shall  Dryden  be. 
So  when  the  faithful  pencil  has  design'd 

Some  bright  Idea  of  the  master's  mind,  485 

Where  a  new  world  leaps  out  at  his  command. 
And  ready  Nature  waits  upon  his  hand ; 
When  the  ripe  colours  soften  and  unite, 


46  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

And  sweetly  melt  into  just  shade  and  light; 

When  mellowing  years  their  full  perfection  give,  490 

And  each  bold  figure  just  begins  to  Uve, 

The  treach'rous  colours  the  fair  art  betray, 

And  all  the  bright  creation  fades  away ! 

Unhappy  Wit,  like  most  mistaken  things, 
Atones  not  for  that  envy  which  it  brings.  495 

In  youth  alone  its  empty  praise  we  boast, 
But  soon  the  short-liv'd  vanity  is  lost: 
Like  some  fair  flow'r  the  early  spring  supplies, 
That  gaily  blooms,  but  ev'n  in  blooming  dies. 
What  is  this  Wit,  which  must  our  cares  employ?  500 

The  owner's  wife,  that  other  men  enjoy; 
Then  most  our  trouble  still  when  most  admir'd. 
And  still  the  more  we  give,  the  more  requir'd; 
Whose  fame  with  pains  we  guard,  but  lose  with  ease, 
Sure  some  to  vex,  but  never  all  to  please;  505 

'T  is  what  the  vicious  fear,  the  virtuous  shun, 
By  fools  't  is  hated,  and  by  knaves  undone ! 

If  Wit  so  much  from  Ign'rance  undergo, 
Ah  let  not  Learning  too  commence  its  foe ! 
Of  old,  those  met  rewards  who  could  excel,  510 

And  such  were  prais'd  who  but  endeavour'd  well: 
Tho'  triumphs  were  to  gen'rals  only  due, 
Crowns  were  reserv'd  to  grace  the  soldiers  too. 
Now,  they  who  reach  Parnassus'  lofty  crown. 
Employ  their  pains  to  spurn  some  others  down;  515 

And  while  self-love  each  jealous  writer  rules. 
Contending  wits  become  the  sport  of  fools: 
But  still  the  worst  with  most  regret  commend, 
For  each  ill  Author  is  as  bad  a  Friend. 

To  what  base  ends,  and  by  what  abject  ways,  520 

Are  mortals  urg'd  thro'  sacred  lust^of  praise ! 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  47 

Ah  ne'er  so  dire  a  thirst  of  glory  boast, 

Nor  in  the  Critic  let  the  Man  be  lost. 

Good-nature  and  good-sense  must  ever  join; 

To  err  is  human,  to  forgive,  divine.  525 

But  if  in  noble  minds  some  dregs  remain 
Not  yet  purg'd  off,  of  spleen  and  sour  disdain; 
Discharge  that  rage  on  more  provoking  crimes, 
Nor  fear  a  dearth  in  these  flagitious  times. 
No  pardon  vile  Obscenity  should  find,  530 

Tho'  wit  and  art  conspire  to  move  your  mind ; 
But  Dulness  with  Obscenity  must  prove 
As  shameful  sure  as  Impotence  in  love. 
In  the  fat  age  of  pleasure  wealth  and  ease 
Sprung  the  rank  weed,  and  thriv'd  with  large  increase:        535 
When  love  was  all  an  easy  Monarch's  care; 
Seldom  at  council,  never  in  a  war: 
Jilts  rul'd  the  state,  and  statesmen  farces  writ ; 
Nay  wits  had  pensions,  and  young  Lords  had  wit : 
The  Fair  sate  panting  at  a  Courtier's  play,  540 

And  not  a  Mask  went  unimprov'd  away: 
The  modest  fan  was  Hfted  up  no  more. 
And  Virgins  smil'd  at  what  they  blush'd  before. 
The  following  licence  of  a  Foreign  reign 

Did  all  the  dregs  of  bold  Socinus  drain ;  545 

Then  unbelieving  priests  reform'd  the  nation. 
And  taught  more  pleasant  methods  of  salvation ; 
Where  Heav'n's  free  subjects  might  their  rights  dispute, 
Lest  God  himself  should  seem  too  absolute: 
Pulpits  their  sacred  satire  learn'd  to  spare,  550 

And  Vice  admir'd  to  find  a  flatt'rer  there ! 
Encourag'd  thus.  Wit's  Titans  brav'd  the  skies. 
And  the  press  groan'd  with  licens'd  blasphemies. 
These  monsters,  Critics !   with  your  darts  engage, 


48  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Here  point  your  thunder,  and  exhaust  your  rage !  555 

Yet  shun  their  fauh,  who,  scandalously  nice, 
Will  needs  mistake  an  author  into  vice; 
All  seems  infected  that  th'  infected  spy, 
As  all  looks  yellow  to  the  jaundic'd  eye. 

Learn  then  what  Morals  Critics  ought  to  show,  56a 

For  't  is  but  half  a  Judge's  task,  to  know. 
'T  is  not  enough,  taste,  judgment,  learning,  join; 
In  all  you  speak,  let  truth  and  candour  shine: 
That  not  alone  what  to  your  sense  is  due 
All  may  allow ;  but  seek  your  friendship  too.  565 

Be  silent  always  when  you  doubt  your  sense; 
And  speak,  tho'  sure,  with  seeming  diffidence: 
Some  positive,  persisting  fops  we  know, 
Who,  if  once  wrong,  will  needs  be  always  so; 
But  you,  with  pleasure  own  your  errors  past,  570 

And  make  each  day  a  Critic  on  the  last. 

'T  is  not  enough,  your  counsel  still  be  true; 
Blunt  truths  more  mischief  than  nice  falsehoods  do; 
Men  must  be  taught  as  if  you  taught  them  not, 
And  things  unknown  propos'd  as  things  forgot.  575 

Without  Good  Breeding,  truth  is  disapprov'd; 
That  only  makes  superior  sense  belov'd. 

Be  niggards  of  advice  on  no  pretence; 
For  the  worst  avarice  is  that  of  sense. 

With  mean  complacence  ne'er  betray  your  trust,  580 

Nor  be  so  civil  as  to  prove  unjust. 
Fear  not  the  anger  of  the  wise  to  raise; 
Those  best  can  bear  reproof,  who  merit  praise. 

'T  were  well  might  critics  still  this  freedom  take, 
But  Appius  reddens  at  each  word  you  speak,  585 

And  stares,  tremendous,  with  a  threat'ning  eye, 


AN  ESSAY  ON   CRITICISM  49 

Like  some  fierce  Tyrant  in  old  tapestry. 

Fear  most  to  tax  an  Honourable  fool, 

Whose  right  it  is,  uncensur'd,  to  be  dull; 

Such,  without  wit,  are  Poets  when  they  please,  590 

As  without  learning  they  can  take  Degrees. 

Leave  dang'rous  truths  to  unsuccessful  Satires, 

And  flattery  to  fulsome  Dedicators, 

Whom,  when  they  praise,  the  world  believes  no  more, 

Than  when  they  promise  to  give  scribbHng  o'er.  595 

'T  is  best  sometimes  your  censure  to  restrain, 

And  charitably  let  the  dull  be  vain: 

Your  silence  there  is  better  than  your  spite. 

For  who  can  rail  so  long  as  they  can  write? 

Still  humming  on,  their  drowsy  course  they  keep,  600 

And  lash'd  so  long,  like  tops,  are  lash'd  asleep. 

False  steps  but  help  them  to  renew  the  race. 

As,  after  stumbling,  Jades  will  mend  their  pace. 

What  crowds  of  these,  impenitently  bold. 

In  sounds  and  jingling  syllables  grown  old,  605 

Still  run  on  Poets,  in  a  raging  vein, 

Ev'n  to  the  dregs  and  squeezings  of  the  brain, 

Strain  out  the  last  dull  droppings  of  their  sense. 

And  rhyme  with  all  the  rage  of  Impotence. 

Such  shameless  Bards  we  have ;  and  yet  't  is  true,  610 

There  are  as  mad  abandon'd  Critics  too. 
The  bookful  blockhead,  ignorantly  read, 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head, 
With  his  own  tongue  still  edifies  his  ears. 
And  always  list'ning  to  himself  appears.  615 

All  books  he  reads,  and  all  he  reads  assails. 
From  Dryden's  Fables  down  to  Durfey's  Tales. 
With  him,  most  authors  steal  their  works,  or  buy; 
Garth  did  not  write  his  own  Dispensary. 


50  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Name  a  new  Play,  and  he  's  the  Poet's  friend,  6ao 

Nay  show'd  his  faults  —  but  when  would  Poets  mend  ? 

No  place  so  sacred  from  such  fops  is  barr'd, 

Nor  is  Paul's  church  more  safe  than  Paul's  churchyard : 

Nay,  fly  to  Altars ;  there  they'll  talk  you  dead : 

For  Fools  rush  in  where  Angels  fear  to  tread.  625 

Distrustful  sense  with  modest  caution  speaks. 

It  still  looks  home,  and  short  excursions  makes; 

But  rattling  nonsense  in  full  volleys  breaks, 

And  never  shock'd,  and  never  turn'd  aside. 

Bursts  out,  resistless,  with  a  thund'ring  tide.  630 

But  where  's  the  man,  who  counsel  can  bestow, 
Still  pleas'd  to  teach,  and  yet  not  proud  to  know? 
Unbiass'd,  or  by  favour,  or  by  spite; 
Not  dully  prepossess'd,  nor  blindly  right; 
Tho' learn'd,  well-bred ;   and  tho' well-bred,  sincere,  635 

Modestly  bold,  and  humanly  severe: 
Who  to  a  friend  his  faults  can  freely  show, 
And  gladly  praise  the  merit  of  a  foe? 
Blest  with  a  taste  exact,  yet  unconfin'd ; 

A  knowledge  both  of  books  and  human  kind :  640 

Gen'rous  converse;   a  soul  exempt  from  pride; 
And  love  to  praise,  with  reason  on  his  side? 

Such  once  were  Critics ;   such  the  happy  few, 
Athens  and  Rome  in  better  ages  knew. 

The  mighty  Stagirite  first  left  the  shore,  645 

Spread  all  his  sails,  and  durst  the  deeps  explore: 
He  steer'd  securely,  and  discover'd  far, 
Led  by  the  light  of  the  Mseonian  Star. 
Poets,  a  race  long  unconfin'd,  and  free, 

Still  fond  and  proud  of  savage  liberty,  650 

Receiv'd  his  laws;   and  stood  convinc'd  't  was  fit, 
Who  conquer'd  Nature,  should  preside  o'er  Wit. 


AN    ESSAY   ON    CRITICISM  51 

Horace  still  charms  with  graceful  negligence, 
And  without  method  talks  us  into  sense, 

Will,  Hke  a  friend,  famiHarly  convey  655 

The  truest  notions  in  the  easiest  way. 
He,  who  supreme  in  judgment,  as  in  wit, 
Might  boldly  censure,  as  he  boldly  writ, 
Yet  judg'd  with  coolness,  tho'  he  sung  with  fire; 
His  Precepts  teach  but  what  his  works  inspire.  660 

Our  Critics  take  a  contrary  extreme. 
They  judge  with  fury,  but  they  write  with  fle'me: 
Nor  suffers  Horace  more  in  wrong  Translations 
By  Wits,  than  Critics  in  as  wrong  Quotations. 

See  Dionysius  Homer's  thoughts  refine,  665 

And  call  new  beauties  forth  from  ev'ry  line ! 

Fancy  and  art  in  gay  Petronius  please. 
The  scholar's  learning,  with  the  courtier's  ease. 

In  grave  Quintilian's  copious  work,  we  find 
The  justest  rules,  and  clearest  method  join'd :  670 

Thus  useful  arms  in  magazines  we  place. 
All  rang'd  in  order,  and  dispos'd  with  grace, 
But  less  to  please  the  eye,  than  arm  the  hand, 
Still  fit  for  use,  and  ready  at  command. 

Thee,  bold  Longinus !    all  the  Nine  inspire,  675 

And  bless  their  Critic  with  a  Poet's  fire. 
An  ardent  Judge,  who  zealous  in  his  trust, 
With  warmth  gives  sentence,  yet  is  always  just ; 
Whose  own  example  strengthens  all  his  laws; 
And  is  himself  that  great  Sublime  he  draws.  680 

Thus  long  succeeding  Critics  justly  reign'd, 
Licence  repress'd,  and  useful  laws  ordain'd. 
Learning  and  Rome  ahke  in  empire  grew; 
And  Arts  still  follow'd  where  her  Eagles  flew; 


52  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

From  the  same  foes,  at  last,  both  felt  their  doom,  68$ 

And  the  same  age  saw  Learning  fall,  and  Rome. 

With  Tyranny,  then  Superstition  join'd, 

As  that  the  body,  this  enslav'd  the  mind; 

Much  was  believ'd,  but  little  understood, 

And  to  be  dull  was  constru'd  to  be  good;  690 

A  second  deluge  Learning  thus  o'er-run. 

And  the  Monks  finish'd  what  the  Goths  begun. 

At  length  Erasmus,  that  great  injur'd  name, 
(The  glory  of  the  Priesthood,  and  the  shame !) 
Stemm'd  the  wild  torrent  of  a  barb'rous  age,  695 

And  drove  those  holy  Vandals  off  the  stage. 

But  see !   each  Muse,  in  Leo's  golden  days. 
Starts  from  her  trance,  and  trims  her  wither'd  bays, 
Rome's  ancient  Genius,  o'er  its  ruins  spread, 
Shakes  off  the  dust,  and  rears  his  rev'rend  head.  700 

Then  Sculpture  and  her  sister-arts  revive; 
Stones  leap'd  to  form,  and  rocks  began  to  live; 
With  sweeter  notes  each  rising  Temple  rung; 
A  Raphael  painted,  and  a  Vida  sung. 

Immortal  Vida:   on  whose  honour'd  brow  705 

The  Poet's  bays  and  Critic's  ivy  grow: 
Cremona  now  shall  ever  boast  thy  name, 
As  next  in  place  to  Mantua,  next  in  fame ! 

But  soon  by  impious  arms  from  Latium  chas'd. 
Their  ancient  bounds  the  banish'd  Muses  pass'd ;  710 

Thence  Arts  o'er  all  the  northern  world  advance, 
But  Critic-learning  flourish 'd  most  in  France: 
The  rules  a  nation,  born  to  serve,  obeys; 
And  Boileau  still  in  right  of  Horace  sways. 
But  we,  brave  Britons,  foreign  laws  despis'd,  715 

And  kept  unconquer'd,  and  unciviliz'd; 
Fierce  for  the  liberties  of  wit,  and  bold. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM  53 

We  still  defy'd  the  Romans,  as  of  old. 

Yec  some  there  were,  among  the  sounder  few 

Of  those  who  less  presum'd,  and  better  knew,  72° 

Who  durst  assert  the  juster  ancient  cause. 

And  here  restor'd  Wit's  fundamental  laws. 

Such  was  the  Muse,  whose  rules  and  practice  tell, 

"  Nature's  chief  Master-piece  is  writing  well." 

Such  was  Roscommon,  not  more  learn'd  than  good,  725 

With  manners  gen'rous  as  his  noble  blood; 

To  him  the  wit  of  Greece  and  Rome  was  known, 

And  ev'ry  author's  merit,  but  his  own. 

Such  late  was  Walsh  —  the  Muse's  judge  and  friend, 

Who  justly  knew  to  blame  or  to  commend;  73° 

To  faiUngs  mild,  but  zealous  for  desert; 

The  clearest  head,  and  the  sincerest  heart. 

This  humble  praise,  lamented  shade !  receive. 

This  praise  at  least  a  grateful  Muse  may  give : 

The  Muse,  whose  early  voice  you  taught  to  sing,  735 

Prescrib'd  her  heights,  and  prun'd  her  tender  wing, 

(Her  guide  now  lost)  no  more  attempts  to  rise, 

But  in  low  numbers  short  excursions  tries : 

Content,  if  hence  th'  unlearn'd  their  wants  may  view, 

The  learn'd  reflect  on  what  before  they  knew :  74o 

Careless  of  censure,  nor  too  fond  of  fame ; 

Still  pleas'd  to  praise,  yet  not  afraid  to  blame, 

Averse  alike  to  flatter,  or  offend; 

Not  free  from  faults,  nor  yet  too  vain  to  mend. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN 

TO 

H.  ST.  JOHN  LORD  BOLINGBROKE 

THE   DESIGN 

Having  proposed  to  write  some  pieces  on  Human  Life  and  Manners, 
such  as  (to  use  my  Lord  Bacon's  expression)  come  home  to  Men's  Business 
and  Bosoms,  I  thought  it  more  satisfactory  to  begin  with  considering  Man 
in  the  abstract,  his  Nature  and  his  State;  since,  to  prove  any  moral  duty, 
to  enforce  any  moral  precept,  or  to  examine  the  perfection  or  imperfec- 
tion of  any  creature  whatsoever,  it  is  necessary  first  to  know  what  condi- 
tion and  relation  it  is  placed  in,  and  what  is  the  proper  end  and  purpose 
of  its  being. 

The  science  of  Human  Nature  is,  like  all  other  sciences,  reduced  to  a 
jew  clear  points :  There  are  not  many  certain  truths  in  this  world.  It  is 
therefore  in  the  Anatomy  of  the  mind  as  in  that  of  the  Body;  more  good 
will  accrue  to  mankind  by  attending  to  the  large,  open,  and  perceptible 
parts,  than  by  studying  too  much  such  finer  nerves  and  vessels,  the  con- 
formations and  uses  of  which  will  for  ever  escape  our  observation.  The 
disputes  are  all  upon  these  last,  and,  I  will  venture  to  say,  they  have  less 
sharpened  the  wits  than  the  hearts  of  men  against  each  other,  and  have 
diminished  the  practice,  more  than  advanced  the  theory  of  Morality.  If 
I  could  flatter  myself  that  this  Essay  has  any  merit,  it  is  in  steering  betwixt 
the  extremes  of  doctrines  seemingly  opposite,  in  passing  over  terms  utterly 
unintelligible,  and  in  forming  a  temperate  yet  not  inconsistent,  and  a  short 
yet  not  imperfect  system  of  Ethics. 

This  I  might  have  done  in  prose,  but  I  chose  verse,  and  even  rhyme,  for 
two  reasons.  The  one  will  appear  obvious;  that  principles,  maxims,  or 
precepts  so  written,  both  strike  the  reader  more  strongly  at  first,  and  are 
more  easily  retained  by  him  afterwards  :  The  other  may  seem  odd,  but  is 
true,  I  found  I  could  express  them  more  shortly  this  way  than  in  prose  it- 
self ;  and  nothing  is  more  certain,  than  that  much  of  the  jorce  as  well  as 
grace  of  arguments  or  instructions,  depends  on  their  conciseness.     I  was 

54 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN 


55 


unable  to  treat  this  part  of  my  subject  more  in  detail,  without  becoming 
dry  and  tedious;  or  more  poetically,  without  sacrificing  perspicuity  to 
ornament,  without  wandring  from  the  precision,  or  breaking  the  chain  of 
reasoning :  If  any  man  can  unite  all  these  without  diminution  of  any  of 
them,  I  freely  confess  he  will  compass  a  thing  above  my  capacity. 

What  is  now  published,  is  only  to  be  considered  as  a  general  Map  of 
Man,  marking  out  no  more  than  the  greater  parts,  their  extent,  their  limits, 
and  their  connection,  and  leaving  the  particular  to  be  more  fully  dehneated 
in  the  charts  which  are  to  follow.  Consequently,  these  Epistles  in  their 
progress  (if  I  have  health  and  leisure  to  make  any  progress)  will  be  less 
dry,  and  more  susceptible  of  poetical  ornament.  I  am  here  only  opening 
the  fountains,  and  clearing  the  passage.  To  deduce  the  rivers,  to  follow 
them  in  their  course,  and  to  observe  their  effects,  may  be  a  task  more  agree- 
able.    P. 

ARGUMENT    OF    EPISTLE    I 

Of  the  Nature  and  State  of  Man,  with  respect  to  the  Universe. 
Of  Man  in  the  abstract.  I.  That  we  can  jtidge  only  with  regard  to  our 
own  system,  being  ignorant  of  the  relations  of  systems  and  things,  v.  17,  &c. 
II.  That  Man  is  not  to  be  deemed  imperfect,  but  a  Bei?tg  suited  to  his  place 
and  rank  in  the  creation,  agreeable  to  the  general  Order  of  things,  and  con- 
formable to  Ends  and  Relations  to  him  unknown,  v.  35,  &c.  III.  That  it 
is  partly  upon  his  ignorance  of  future  events,  and  partly  upon  the  hope  of  a 
future  state,  that  all  his  happiness  in  the  present  depends,  v.  77,  &c.  IV. 
The  pride  of  aiming  at  more  knowledge,  and  pretending  to  more  Perfection, 
the  cause  of  Man's  error  and  misery.  The  impiety  of  putting  himself  in 
the  place  of  God,  and  judging  of  the  fitness  or  unfitness,  perfection  or  im- 
perfection, justice  or  injustice  of  his  dispensations,  v.  109,  &c.  V.  The 
absurdity  of  conceiting  himself  the  final  cause  of  the  creation,  or  expecting 
that  perfection  in  the  moral  world,  which  is  not  in  the  natural,  v.  131,  &c. 

VI.  The  unreasonableness  of  his  complaints  against  Providence,  while  on 
the  one  hand  he  demands  the  Perfections  of  the  Angels,  and  on  the 
other  the  bodily  qualifications  of  the  Brutes;  though,  to  possess  any  of  the 
sensitive  faculties  in  a  higher  degree,  would  render  him  miserable,  v.  1 73,  &c. 

VII.  That  throughout  the  whole  visible  world,  an  universal  order  and  grada- 
tion in  the  sensual  and  mental  faculties  is  observed,  which  causes  a  subordi- 
nation of  creature  to  creature,  and  of  all  creatures  to  Man.  The  gradations 
of  sense,  instinct,  thought,  reflection,  reason;  that  Reason  alone  countervails 
«ll  the  other  faculties,  v.  207.     VIII.  How  much  further  this  order  and  sub- 


56  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

ordination  oj  living  creatures  may  extend,  above  and  below  us  ;  were  any  pari 
of  which  broken,  not  that  part  only,  but  the  whole  connected  creation  must  be 
destroyed,  v.  233.  IX.  The  extravagance,  madness,  and  pride  of  such  a 
desire,  v.  250.  X.  The  consequence  of  all,  the  absolute  submission  due  to 
Providence,  both  as  to  our  present  and  future  state,  v.  281,  &c.  to  the  end. 


EPISTLE  I 

Awake,  my  St.  John  !  leave  all  meaner  things 

To  low  ambition,  and  the  pride  of  Kings. 

Let  us  (since  Life  can  little  more  supply 

Than  just  to  look  about  us  and  to  die) 

Expatiate  free  o'er  all  this  scene  of  Man;  5 

A  mighty  maze !   but  not  without  a  plan ; 

A  Wild,  where  weeds  and  flow'rs  promiscuous  shoot; 

Or  Garden,  tempting  with  forbidden  fruit. 

Together  let  us  beat  this  ample  field, 

Try  what  the  open,  what  the  covert  yield ;  10 

The  latent  tracts,  the  giddy  heights,  explore 

Of  all  who  bhndly  creep,  or  sightless  soar; 

Eye  Nature's  walks,  shoot  Folly  as  it  flies, 

And  catch  the  Manners  living  as  they  rise; 

Laugh  where  we  must,  be  candid  where  we  can;  js 

But  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  Man. 

I.   Say  first,  of  God  above,  or  Man  below. 
What  can  we  reason,  but  from  what  we  know? 
Of  Man,  what  see  we  but  his  station  here, 
From  which  to  reason,  or  to  which  refer?  30 

Thro'  worlds  unnumber'd  tho'  the  God  be  known, 
'T  is  ours  to  trace  him  only  in  our  own. 
He,  who  thro'  vast  immensity  can  pierce, 
See  worlds  on  worlds  compose  one  universe, 
Observe  how  system  into  system  runs,  as 


AN  ESSAY  ON  MAN  57 

What  other  planets  circle  other  suns, 

What  vary'd  Being  peoples  ev'ry  star, 

May  tell  why  Heav'n  has  made  us  as  we  are. 

But  of  this  frame  the  bearings,  and  the  ties. 

The  strong  connexions,  nice  dependencies,  30 

Gradations  just,  has  thy  pervading  soul 

Look'd  thro'  ?   or  can  a  part  contain  the  whole  ? 

Is  the  great  chain,  that  draws  all  to  agree, 
And  drawn  supports,  upheld  by  God,  or  thee? 

II.   Presumptuous  Man  !   the  reason  wouldst  thou  find,     35 
Why  form'd  so  weak,  so  httle,  and  so  bUnd  ? 
First,  if  thou  canst,  the  harder  reason  guess, 
Why  form'd  no  weaker,  blinder,  and  no  less? 
Ask  of  thy  mother  earth,  why  oaks  are  made 
Taller  or  stronger  than  the  weeds  they  shade?  40 

Or  ask  of  yonder  argent  fields  above, 
WTiy  Jove's  satellites  are  less  than  Jove? 

Of  Systems  possible,  if  't  is  confest 
That  Wisdom  infinite  must  form  the  best, 
Where  all  must  full  or  not  coherent  be,  45 

And  all  that  rises,  rise  in  due  degree; 
Then,  in  the  scale  of  reas'ning  life,  't  is  plain, 
There  must  be,  somewhere,  such  a  rank  as  Man: 
And  all  the  question  (wrangle  e'er  so  long) 
Is  only  this,  if  God  has  plac'd  him  WTong?  50 

Respecting  Man,  whatever  wrong  we  call. 
May,  must  be  right,  as  relative  to  all. 
In  human  works,  tho'  labour'd  on  with  pain, 
A  thousand  movements  scarce  one  purpose  gain; 
In  God's,  one  single  can  its  end  produce;  55 

Yet  serves  to  second  too  some  other  use. 
So  Man,  who  here  seems  principal  alone, 
Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown. 


58  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Touches  some  wheel,  or  verges  to  some  goal; 

'T  is  but  a  part  we  see,  and  not  a  whole.  60 

When  the  proud  steed  shall  know  why  Man  restrains 
His  fiery  course,  or  drives  him  o'er  the  plains: 
When  the  dull  Ox,  why  now  he  breaks  the  clod, 
Is  now  a  victim,  and  now  Egypt's  God : 
Then  shall  Man's  pride  and  dulness  comprehend  65 

His  actions',  passions',  being's,  use  and  end; 
Why  doing,  suff'ring,  check'd,  impell'd;   and  why 
This  hour  a  slave,  the  next  a  deity. 

Then  say  not  Man  's  imperfect,  Heav'n  in  fault; 
Say  rather,  Man  's  as  perfect  as  he  ought:  70 

His  knowledge  measur'd  to  his  state  and  place; 
His  time  a  moment,  and  a  point  his  space. 
If  to  be  perfect  in  a  certain  sphere, 
What  matter,  soon  or  late,  or  here  or  there? 
The  blest  to  day  is  as  completely  so,  75 

As  who  began  a  thousand  years  ago. 

III.   Heav'n  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  Fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescrib'd,  their  present  state : 
From  brutes  what  men,  from  men  what  spirits  know: 
Or  who  could  suffer  Being  here  below?  80 

The  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to  bleed  to-day, 
Had  he  thy  Reason,  would  he  skip  and  play? 
Pleas'd  to  the  last,  he  crops  the  flow'ry  food, 
And  licks  the  hand  just  rais'd  to  shed  his  blood. 
Oh  blindness  to  the  future  !   kindly  giv'n,  8$ 

That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  Heav'n: 
Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 
A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall, 
Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurl'd, 
And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world.  90 

Hope  humbly  then ;   with  trembling  pinions  soar ; 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN  59 

Wait  the  great  teacher  Death;  and  God  adore. 

What  future  bliss,  he  gives  not  thee  to  know, 

But  gives  that  Hope  to  be  thy  blessing  now. 

Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast:  95 

Man  never  Is,  but  always  To  be  blest: 

The  soul,  uneasy  and  confin'd  from  home, 

Rests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come. 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian !   whose  untutor'd  mind 
Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  him  in  the  wind :  100 

His  soul,  proud  Science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  solar  walk,  or  milky  way; 
Yet  simple  Nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n, 
Behind  the  cloud-topt  hill,  an  humbler  heav'n; 
Some  safer  world  in  depth  of  woods  embrac'd,  105 

Some  happier  island  in  the  watry  waste. 
Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 
No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold. 
To  Be,  contents  his  natural  desire. 

He  asks  no  Angel's  wing,  no  Seraph's  fire;  no 

But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky. 
His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

IV.    Go,  wiser  thou!   and,  in  thy  scale  of  sense, 
Weight  thy  Opinion  against  Providence; 

Call  imperfection  what  thou  fancy 'st  such,  115 

Say,  here  he  gives  too  little,  there  too  much: 
Destroy  all  Creatures  for  thy  sport  or  gust, 
Yet  cry.  If  Man  's  unhappy,  God  's  unjust ; 
If  Man  alone  engross  not  Heav'n's  high  care, 
Alone  made  perfect  here,  immortal  there :  lao 

Snatch  from  his  hand  the  balance  and  the  rod, 
Re-judge  his  justice,  be  the  God  of  God. 
In  Pride,  in  reas'ning  Pride,  our  error  lies; 
All  quit  their  sphere,  and  rush  into  the  skies. 


6o  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Pride  still  is  aiming  at  the  blest  abodes,  195 

Men  would  be  Angels,  Angels  would  be  Gods. 

Aspiring  to  be  Gods,  if  Angels  fell, 

Aspiring  to  be  Angels,  Men  rebel: 

And  who  but  wishes  to  invert  the  laws 

Of  Order,  sins  against  th'  Eternal  Cause.  130 

V.   Ask  for  what  end  the  heav'nly  bodies  shine, 
Earth  for  whose  use?    Pride  answers,  '"T  is  for  mine: 
For  me  kind  Nature  wakes  her  genial  Pow'r, 
Suckles  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  ev'ry  flow'r; 
Annual  for  me,  the  grape,  the  rose  renew  135 

The  juice  nectareous,  and  the  balmy  dew; 
For  me,  the  mine  a  thousand  treasures  brings; 
For  me,  health  gushes  from  a  thousand  springs; 
Seas  roll  to  waft  me,  suns  to  light  me  rise; 
My  foot-stool  earth,  my  canopy  the  skies."  140 

But  errs  not  Nature  from  his  gracious  end, 
From  burning  suns  when  Hvid  deaths  descend. 
When  earthquakes  swallow,  or  when  tempests  sweep 
Towns  to  one  grave,  whole  nations  to  the  deep? 
"No,  ('t  is  reply'd)  the  first  Almighty  Cause  145 

Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  gen'ral  laws ; 
Th'  exceptions  few ;   some  change  since  all  began : 
And  what  created  perfect?  "  —  Why  then  Man? 
If  the  great  end  be  human  Happiness, 

Then  Nature  deviates ;   and  can  Man  do  less  ?  150 

As  much  that  end  a  constant  course  requires 
Of  show'rs  and  sun-shine,  as  of  Man's  desires; 
As  much  eternal  springs  and  cloudless  skies, 
As  Men  for  ever  temp'rate,  calm,  and  wise. 
If  plagues  or  earthquakes  break  not  Heav'n's  design,  155 

Why  then  a  Borgia,  or  a  Catihne? 
Who  knows  but  he,  whose  hand  the  lightning  forms, 


AN  ESSAY   ON  MAN  6i 

Who  heaves  old  Ocean,  and  who  wings  the  storms; 

Pours  fierce  Ambition  in  a  Caesar's  mind, 

Or  turns  young  Ammon  loose  to  scourge  mankind?  i6o 

From  pride,  from  pride,  our  very  reas'ning  springs; 

Account  for  moral,  as  for  nat'ral  things: 

Why  charge  we  Heav'n  in  those,  in  these  acquit? 

In  both,  to  reason  right  is  to  submit. 

Better  for  Us,  perhaps,  it  might  appear,  165 

Were  there  all  harmony,  all  virtue  here; 
That  never  air  or  ocean  felt  the  wind ; 
That  never  passion  discompos'd  the  mind. 
But  All  subsists  by  elemental  strife; 

And  Passions  are  the  elements  of  Life.  170 

The  gen'ral  Order,  since  the  whole  began, 
Is  kept  in  Nature,  and  is  kept  in  Man. 

VI.   What  would  this  Man  ?    Now  upward  will  he  soar, 
And  little  less  than  Angel,  would  be  more; 
Now  looking  downwards,  just  as  griev'd  appears  175 

To  want  the  strength  of  bulls,  the  fur  of  bears. 
Made  for  his  use  all  creatures  if  he  call, 
Say  what  their  use,  had  he  the  pow'rs  of  all? 
Nature  to  these,  without  profusion,  kind. 
The  proper  organs,  proper  pow'rs  assign'd ;  180 

Each  seeming  want  compensated  of  course. 
Here  with  degrees  of  swiftness,  there  of  force; 
All  in  exact  proportion  to  the  state; 
Nothing  to  add,  and  nothing  to  abate. 

Each  beast,  each  insect,  happy  in  its  own:  185 

Is  Heav'n  unkind  to  Man,  and  Man  alone? 
Shall  he  alone,  whom  rational  we  call. 
Be  pleas'd  with  nothing,  if  not  bless'd  with  all? 

The  bliss  of  Man  (could  Pride  that  blessing  find) 
Is  not  to  act  or  think  beyond  mankind;  190 


62  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

No  pow'rs  of  body  or  of  soul  to  share, 

But  what  his  nature  and  his  state  can  bear. 

Why  has  not  Man  a  microscopic  eye? 

For  this  plain  reason,  Man  is  not  a  Fly. 

Say  what  the  use,  were  finer  optics  giv'n,  195 

T'  inspect  a  mite,  not  comprehend  the  heav'n? 

Or  touch,  if  trembhngly  alive  all  o'er, 

To  smart  and  agonize  at  every  pore? 

Or  quick  effluvia  darting  thro'  the  brain, 

Die  of  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain  ?  200 

If  Nature  thunder'd  in  his  op'ning  ears. 

And  stunn'd  him  with  the  music  of  the  spheres, 

How  would  he  wish  that  Heav'n  had  left  him  still 

The  whisp'ring  Zephyr,  and  the  purling  rill? 

Who  finds  not  Providence  all  good  and  wise,  205 

Alike  in  what  it  gives,  and  what  denies? 

VII.   Far  as  Creation's  ample  range  extends. 
The  scale  of  sensual,  mental  pow'rs  ascends : 
Mark  how  it  mounts,  to  Man's  imperial  race. 
From  the  green  myriads  in  the  peopled  grass:  210 

What  modes  of  sight  betwixt  each  wide  extreme, 
The  mole's  dim  curtain,  and  the  lynx's  beam : 
Of  smell,  the  headlong  honess  between. 
And  hound  sagacious  on  the  tainted  green: 
Of  hearing,  from  the  life  that  fills  the  Flood,  215 

To  that  which  warbles  thro'  the  vernal  wood: 
The  spider's  touch,  how  exquisitely  fine ! 
Feels  at  each  thread,  and  lives  along  the  line: 
In  the  nice  bee,  what  sense  so  subtly  true 
From  pois'nous  herbs  extracts  the  healing  dew?  220 

How  Instinct  varies  in  the  grov'lling  swine, 
Compar'd,  half-reas'ning  elephant,  with  thine ! 
Twixt  that,  and  Reason,  what  a  nice  barrier. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN  63 

For  ever  sep'rate,  yet  for  ever  near ! 

Remembrance  and  Reflection  how  ally'd;  225 

What  thin  partitions  Sense  from  Thought  divide: 

And  Middle  natures,  how  they  long  to  join, 

Yet  never  pass  th'  insuperable  line ! 

Without  this  just  gradation,  could  they  be 

Subjected,  these  to  those,  or  all  to  thee?  230 

The  pow'rs  of  all  subdu'd  by  thee  alone, 

Is  not  thy  Reason  all  these  pow'rs  in  one? 

VIII.    See,  thro'  this  air,  this  ocean,  and  this  earth, 
All  matter  quick,  and  bursting  into  birth. 
Above,  how  high,  progressive  life  may  go !  235 

Around,  how  wide  !  how  deep  extend  below ! 
Vast  chain  of  Being !   which  from  God  began, 
Natures  ethereal,  human,  angel,  man. 
Beast,  bird,  fish,  insect,  what  no  eye  can  see, 
No  glass  can  reach;   from  Infinite  to  thee,  240 

From  thee  to  Nothing.  —  On  superior  pow'rs 
Were  we  to  press,  inferior  might  on  ours: 
Or  in  the  full  creation  leave  a  void. 
Where,  one  step  broken,  the  great  scale  's  destroy'd: 
From  Nature's  chain  whatever  fink  you  strike,  245 

Tenth  or  ten  thousandth,  breaks  the  chain  aUke. 

And,  if  each  system  in  gradation  roll 
Alike  essential  to  th'  amazing  Whole, 
The  least  confusion  but  in  one,  not  all 

That  system  only,  but  the  Whole  must  fall.  250 

Let  Earth  unbalanc'd  from  her  orbit  fly, 
Planets  and  Suns  run  lawless  thro'  the  sky; 
Let  ruling  Angels  from  their  spheres  be  hurl'd. 
Being  on  Being  wreck'd,  and  world  on  world; 
Heav'n's  whole  foundations  to  their  centre  nod,  255 

And  Nature  tremble  to  the  throne  of  God. 


64  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

All  this  dread  Order  break —  for  whom?   for  thee? 
Vile  worm  !  —  Oh  Madness !     Pride  !     Impiety  ! 

IX.   What  if  the  foot,  ordain'd  the  dust  to  tread, 
Or  hand,  to  toil,  aspir'd  to  be  the  head?  260 

What  if  the  head,  the  eye,  or  ear  repin'd 
To  serve  mere  engines  to  the  ruling  Mind? 
Just  as  absurd  for  any  part  to  claim 
To  be  another,  in  this  gen'ral  frame: 

Just  as  absurd,  to  mourn  the  tasks  or  pains,  265 

The  great  directing  Mind  of  All  ordains. 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul ; 
That,  chang'd  thro'  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same; 
Great  in  the  earth,  as  in  th'  ethereal  frame;  270 

Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze. 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees, 
Lives  thro'  all  life,  extends  thro'  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent ; 

Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part,  275 

As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a  hair  as  heart: 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  Man  that  mourns. 
As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  burns: 
To  him  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small; 
He  fills,  he  bounds,  connects,  and  equals  all.  280 

X.   Cease  then,  nor  Order  Imperfection  name : 
Our  proper  bliss  depends  on  what  we  blame. 
Know  thy  own  point :   This  kind,  this  due  degree 
Of  blindness,  weakness,  Heav'n  bestows  on  thee. 
Submit.  —  In  this,  or  any  other  sphere,  285 

Secure  to  be  as  blest  as  thou  canst  bear: 
Safe  in  the  hand  of  one  disposing  Pow'r, 
Or  in  the  natal,  or  the  mortal  hour. 
All  Nature  is  but  Art,  unknown  to  thee; 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN  65 

All  Chance,  Direction,  which  thou  canst  not  see;  290 

All  Discord,  Harmony  not  understood; 

All  partial  Evil,  universal  Good : 

And,  spite  of  Pride,  in  erring  Reason's  spite, 

One  truth  is  clear,  Whatever  is,  is  right. 


EPISTLE   TO    DR    ARBUTHNOT 

Advertisement  to  the  first  publication  of  this  Epistle 

This  paper  is  a  sort  of  bill  of  complaint,  begun  many  years  since,  and 
drawn  up  by  snatches,  as  the  several  occasions  offered.  I  had  no  thoughts 
of  publishing  it,  till  it  pleased  some  Persons  of  Rank  and  Fortune  (the 
Authors  of  Verses  to  the  Imitator  of  Horace,  and  of  an  Epistle  to  a  Doctor 
of  Divinity  jrom  a  Nobleman  at  Hampton  Court)  to  attack,  in  a  very 
extraordinary  manner,  not  only  my  Writings  (of  which,  being  public, 
the  Public  is  judge),  but  my  Person,  Morals,  and  Family,  whereof,  to 
those  who  know  me  not,  a  truer  information  may  be  requisite.  Being 
divided  between  the  necessity  to  say  something  of  myself,  and  my  own  lazi- 
ness to  undertake  so  awkward  a  task,  I  thought  it  the  shortest  way  to  put 
the  last  hand  to  this  Epistle.  If  it  have  any  thing  pleasing,  it  will  be  that 
by  which  I  am  most  desirous  to  please,  the  Truth  and  the  Sentiment; 
and  if  any  thing  offensive,  it  will  be  only  to  those  I  am  least  sorry  to  offend, 
the  vicious  or  the  ungenerous. 

Many  will  know  their  own  pictures  in  it,  there  being  not  a  circumstance 
but  what  is  true;  but  I  have,  for  the  most  part,  spared  their  Names,  and 
they  may  escape  being  laughed  at,  if  they  please. 

I  would  have  some  of  them  know,  it  was  owing  to  the  request  of  the 
learned  and  candid  Friend  to  whom  it  is  inscribed,  that  I  make  not  as  free 
use  of  theirs  as  they  have  done  of  mine.  However,  I  shall  have  this  ad- 
vantage, and  honour,  on  my  side,  that  whereas,  by  their  proceeding,  any 
abuse  may  be  directed  at  any  man,  no  injury  can  possibly  be  done  by 
mine,  since  a  nameless  character  can  never  be  found  out,  but  by  its  truth 
and  likeness.     P. 


P.     Shut,  shut  the  door,  good  John !   fatigu'd,  I  said, 
Tie  up  the  knocker,  say  I  'm  sick,  I  'm  dead. 
The  Dog-star  rages !   nay  't  is  past  a  doubt, 
All  Bedlam,  or  Parnassus,  is  let  out: 
Fire  in  each  eye,  and  papers  in  each  hand, 

66 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  67 

They  rave,  recite,  and  madden  round  the  land. 

What  walls  can  guard  me,  or  what  shade  can  hide? 
They  pierce  my  thickets,  thro'  my  Grot  they  glide; 
By  land,  by  water,  they  renew  the  charge ; 
They  stop  the  chariot,  and  they  board  the  barge,  lo 

No  place  is  sacred,  not  the  Church  is  free; 
Ev'n  Sunday  shines  no  Sabbath-day  to  me; 
Then  from  the  Mint  walks  forth  the  Man  of  rhyme, 
Happy  to  catch  me  just  at  Dinner-time. 

Is  there  a  Parson,  much  bemus'd  in  beer,  15 

A  maudlin  Poetess,  a  rhyming  Peer, 
A  Clerk,  foredoom'd  his  father's  soul  to  cross, 
Who  pens  a  Stanza,  when  he  should  engross  ? 
Is  there,  who,  lock'd  from  ink  and  paper,  scrawls 
With  desp'rate  charcoal  round  his  darken'd  walls?  20 

All  fly  to  Twit'nam,  and  in  humble  strain 
Apply  to  me,  to  keep  them  mad  or  vain. 
Arthur,  whose  giddy  son  neglects  the  Laws, 
Imputes  to  me  and  my  damn'd  works  the  cause: 
Poor  Comus  sees  his  frantic  wife  elope,  as 

And  curses  Wit,  and  Poetry,  and  Pope. 

Friend  to  my  Life !   (which  did  not  you  prolong, 
The  world  had  wanted  many  an  idle  song) 
What  Drop  or  Nostrum  can  this  plague  remove? 
Or  which  must  end  me,  a  Fool's  wrath  or  love?  30 

A  dire  dilemma !   either  way  I  'm  sped. 
If  foes,  they  write,  if  friends,  they  read  me  dead. 
Seiz'd  and  tied  down  to  judge,  how  wretched  I ! 
Who  can't  be  silent,  and  who  will  not  He. 
To  laugh,  were  want  of  goodness  and  of  grace,  35 

And  to  be  grave,  exceeds  all  Pow'r  of  face. 
I  sit  with  sad  civility,  I  read 
With  honest  anguish,  and  an  aching  head; 


68  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

And  drop  at  last,  but  in  unwilling  ears, 

This  saving  counsel,  "  Keep  your  piece  nine  years."  40 

"  Nine  years !  "  cries  he,  who  high  in  Drury-lane, 
LuII'd  by  soft  Zephyrs  thro'  the  broken  pane, 
Rhymes  ere  he  wakes,  and  prints  before  Term  ends, 
Oblig'd  by  hunger,  and  request  of  friends  : 
"  The  piece,  you  think,  is  incorrect?  why,  take  it,  45 

"  I  'm  all  submission,  what  you  'd  have  it,  make  it." 

Three  things  another's  modest  wishes  bound, 
My  Friendship,  and  a  Prologue,  and  ten  pound. 

Pitholeon  sends  to  me :  "  You  know  his  Grace 
"  I  want  a  Patron;  ask  him  for  a  Place."  5° 

'  Pitholeon  libell'd  me,'  —  "  but  here  's  a  letter 
"  Informs  you,  Sir,  't  was  when  he  knew  no  better, 
"  Dare  you  refuse  him?     Curll  invites  to  dine, 
"  He  '11  write  a  Journal,  or  he  '11  turn  Divine." 

Bless  me !  a  packet.  —  "  'T  is  a  stranger  sues,  ss 

A  Virgin  Tragedy,  an  Orphan  Muse." 
If  I  dislike  it,  "  Furies,  death  and  rage !  " 
If  I  approve,  "  Commend  it  to  the  Stage." 
There  (thank  my  stars)  my  whole  Commission  ends, 
The  Play'rs  and  I  are,  luckily,  no  friends,  60 

Fir'd  that  the  house  reject  him,  "  'Sdeath  I  '11  print  it, 

"  And  shame  the  fools Your  Int'rest,  Sir,  with  Lintot !  " 

'  Lintot,  dull  rogue !  will  think  your  price  too  much : ' 

"  Not,  Sir,  if  you  revise  it,  and  retouch." 

All  my  demurs  but  double  his  Attacks;  65 

At  last  he  whispers,  "  Do;  and  we  go  snacks." 

Glad  of  a  quarrel,  straight  I  clap  the  door, 

Sir,  let  me  see  your  works  and  you  no  more. 

'T  is  sung,  when  Midas'  Ears  began  to  spring, 
(Midas,  a  sacred  person  and  a  king)  70 

His  very  Minister  who  spy'd  them  first, 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  69 

(Some  say  his  Queen)  was  forc'd  to  speak,  or  burst. 
And  is  not  mine,  my  friend,  a  sorer  case, 
When  ev'ry  coxcomb  perks  them  in  my  face? 
A.    Good  friend,  forbear  !   you  deal  in  dang'rous  things.        75 
I  'd  never  name  Queens,  Ministers,  or  Kings; 
Keep  close  to  Ears,  and  those  let  asses  prick; 
'T  is  nothing —     P.    Nothing?    if  they  bite  and  kick? 
Out  with  it,  DuNCiAD !   let  the  secret  pass. 
That  secret  to  each  fool,  that  he  's  an  Ass :  80 

The  truth  once  told  (and  wherefore  should  we  lie?) 
The  Queen  of  Midas  slept,  and  so  may  I. 
You  think  this  cruel?   take  it  for  a  rule. 
No  creature  smarts  so  little  as  a  fool. 

Let  peals  of  laughter,  Codrus !   round  thee  break,  85 

Thou  unconcern'd  canst  hear  the  mighty  crack: 
Pit,  Box,  and  gall'ry  in  convulsions  hurl'd, 
Thou  stand'st  unshook  amidst  a  bursting  world. 
Who  shames  a  Scribbler?   break  one  cobweb  thro', 
He  spins  the  slight,  self-pleasing  thread  anew:  90 

Destroy  his  fib  or  sophistry,  in  vain, 
The  creature  's  at  his  dirty  work  again, 
Thron'd  in  the  centre  of  his  thin  designs, 
Proud  of  a  vast  extent  of  flimsy  lines ! 

Whom  have  I  hurt?   has  Poet  yet,  or  Peer,  95 

Lost  the  arch'd  eye-brow,  or  Parnassian  sneer? 

:(!  :|c  ^f:  ^  4:  :{: 

Does  not  one  table  Bavius  still  admit  ? 

Still  to  one  Bishop  Philips  seem  a  wit? 

Still  Sappho —    A.    Hold!   for  God's  sake  —  you  '11  offend, 

No  Names  !  —  be  calm  !  —  learn  prudence  of  a  friend  !         100 

I  too  could  write,  and  I  am  twice  as  tall; 

But  foes  like  these  —    P.    One  Flatt'rer  's  worse  than  all. 

Of  all  mad  creatures,  if  the  learn'd  are  right, 

It  is  the  slaver  kills,  and  not  the  bite. 


70  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

A  fool  quite  angry  is  quite  innocent :  los 

Alas !   't  is  ten  times  worse  when  they  repent. 

One  dedicates  in  high  heroic  prose, 
And  ridicules  beyond  a  hundred  foes : 
One  from  all  Grubstreet  will  my  fame  defend, 
And  more  abusive,  calls  himself  my  friend.  "o 

This  prints  my  Letters,  that  expects  a  bribe. 
And  others  roar  aloud,  "Subscribe,  subscribe." 

There  are,  who  to  my  person  pay  their  court : 
I  cough  like  Horace,  and,  tho'  lean,  am  short. 
Amnion's  great  son  one  shoulder  had  too  high,  nS 

Such  Ovid's  nose,  and  "Sir!  you  have  an  Eye"  — 
Go  on,  obliging  creatures,  make  me  see 
All  that  disgrac'd  my  Betters,  met  in  me. 
Say  for  my  comfort,  languishing  in  bed, 
"  Just  so  immortal  Maro  held  his  head : "  120 

And  when  I  die,  be  sure  you  let  me  know 
Great  Homer  died  three  thousand  years  ago. 

Why  did  I  write?   what  sin  to  me  unknown 
Dipt  me  in  ink,  my  parents',  or  my  own? 
As  yet  a  child,  nor  yet  a  fool  to  fame,  125 

I  lisp'd  in  numbers,  for  the  numbers  came. 

I  left  no  calUng  for  this  idle  trade. 

No  duty  broke,  no  father  disobey'd. 

The  Muse  but  serv'd  to  ease  some  friend,  not  Wife, 

To  help  me  thro'  this  long  disease,  my  Life,  130 

To  second,  Arbuthnot  !   thy  Art  and  Care, 

And  teach  the  Being  you  preserv'd,  to  bear. 
But  why  then  publish?     Granville  the  poUte, 

And. knowing  Walsh,  would  tell  me  I  could  write; 

Well-natur'd  Garth  inflam'd  with  early  praise;  13S 

And  Congreve  lov'd,  and  Swift  endur'd  my  lays; 

The  courtly  Talbot,  Somers,  Sheffield,  read; 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  71 

Ev'n  mitred  Rochester  would  nod  the  head, 

And  St.  John's  self  (great  Dryden^s  friends  before) 

With  open  arms  receiv'd  one  Poet  more.  140 

Happy  my  studies,  when  by  these  approv'd ! 

Happier  their  author,  when  by  these  belov'd  ! 

From  these  the  world  will  judge  of  men  and  books, 

Not  from  the  Burnets,  Oldtnixons,  and  Cookes. 

Soft  were  my  numbers ;   who  could  take  offence,  145 

While  pure  Description  held  the  place  of  Sense? 
Like  gentle  Fanny's  was  my  flow'ry  theme, 
A  painted  mistress,  or  a  purling  stream. 
Yet  then  did  Gildon  draw  his  venal  quill;  — 
I  wish'd  the  man  a  dinner,  and  sat  still.  "         150 

Yet  then  did  Dennis  rave  in  furious  fret; 
I  never  answer 'd,  —  I  was  not  in  debt. 
If  want  provok'd,  or  madness  made  them  print, 
I  wag'd  no  war  with  Bedlam  or  the  Mint. 

Did  some  more  sober  Critic  come  abroad;  155 

If  wrong,  I  smil'd ;   if  right,  I  kiss'd  the  rod. 
Pains,  reading,  study,  are  their  just  pretence. 
And  all  they  want  is  spirit,  taste,  and  sense. 
Commas  and  points  they  set  exactly  right, 
And  't  were  a  sin  to  rob  them  of  their  mite.  i6o 

Yet  ne'er  one  sprig  of  laurel  grac'd  these  ribalds, 
From  slashing  Bentley  down  to  pidling  Tihalds : 
Each  wight,  who  reads  not,  and  but  scans  and  spells. 
Each  Word-catcher,  that  Uves  on  syllables, 
Ev'n  such  small  Critics  some  regard  may  claim,  i6«; 

Preserv'd  in  Milton's  or  in  Shakespeare's  name. 
Pretty !   in  amber  to  observe  the  forms 
Of  hairs,  or  straws,  or  dirt,  or  grubs,  or  worms ! 
The  things,  we  know,  are  neither  rich  nor  rare. 
But  wonder  how  the  devil  they  got  there.  170 


y2  SELECTIONS  FROM   POPE 

Were  others  angry :  I  excus'd  them  too ; 
Well  might  they  rage,  I  gave  them  but  their  due. 
A  man's  true  merit  't  is  not  hard  to  find ; 
But  each  man's  secret  standard  in  his  mind, 
That  Casting-weight  pride  adds  to  emptiness,  175 

This,  who  can  gratify?   for  who  can  guess? 
The  Bard  whom  pilfer'd  Pastorals  renown, 
Who  turns  a  Persian  tale  for  half  a  Crown, 
Just  writes  to  make  his  barrenness  appear, 
And  strains,  from  hard-bound  brains,  eight  lines  a  year ;      180 
He,  who  still  wanting,  tho'  he  hves  on  theft. 
Steals  much,  spends  little,  yet  has  nothing  left: 
And  He,  who  now  to  sense,  now  nonsense  leaning. 
Means  not,  but  blunders  round  about  a  meaning: 
And  He,  whose  fustian  's  so  subUmely  bad,  185 

It  is  not  Poetry,  but  prose  run  mad : 
All  these,  my  modest  Satire  bade  translate, 
And  own'd  that  nine  such  Poets  made  a  Tate. 
How  did  they  fume,  and  stamp,  and  roar,  and  chafe ! 
And  swear,  not  Addison  himself  was  safe.  19° 

Peace  to  all  such !  but  were  there  One  whose  fires 
True  Genius  kindles,  and  fair  Fame  inspires ; 
Blest  with  each  talent  and  each  art  to  please, 
And  born  to  write,  converse,  and  live  with  ease: 
Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone,  19S 

Bear,  Uke  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne. 
View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 
And  hate  for  arts  that  caus'd  himself  to  rise; 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer. 
And  without  sneering,  teach  the  rest  to  sneer; 
WilUng  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike. 
Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike; 
Alike  reserv'd  to  blame,  or  to  commend. 


300 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  73 

A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend; 

Dreading  ev'n  fools,  by  Flatterers  besieg'd,  905 

And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  obUg'd ; 

Like  Cato,  give  his  little  Senate  laws, 

And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause; 

While  Wits  and  Templars  ev'ry  sentence  raise, 

And  wonder  with  a  fooUsh  face  of  praise : aio 

Who  but  must  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be? 
Who  would  not  weep,  if  Atticus  were  he  ? 

What  tho'  my  Name  stood  rubric  on  the  walls 
Or  plaister'd  posts,  with  claps,  in  capitals? 
Or  smoking  forth,  a  hundred  hawkers'  load,  315 

On  wings  of  winds  came  flying  all  abroad  ? 
I  sought  no  homage  from  the  Race  that  write; 
I  kept,  like  Asian  Monarchs,  from  their  sight: 
Poems  I  heeded  (now  be-rhym'd  so  long) 
No  more  than  thou,  great  George  !  a  birth-day  song.  sao 

I  ne'er  with  wits  or  witUngs  pass'd  my  days, 
To  spread  about  the  itch  of  verse  and  praise; 
Nor  like  a  puppy,  daggled  thro'  the  town. 
To  fetch  and  carry  sing-song  up  and  down; 
Nor  at  Rehearsals  sweat,  and  mouth'd,  and  cry'd,  aas 

With  handkerchief  and  orange  at  my  side; 
But  sick  of  fops,  and  poetry,  and  prate, 
To  Bufo  left  the  whole  Castalian  state. 

Proud  as  Apollo  on  his  forked  hill, 
Sat  full-blown  Bufo,  puff'd  by  ev'ry  quill;  ajo 

Fed  with  soft  Dedication  all  day  long, 
Horace  and  he  went  hand  in  hand  in  song. 
His  Library  (where  busts  of  Poets  dead 
And  a  true  Pindar  stood  without  a  head,) 
Receiv'd  of  wits  an  undistinguish'd  race,  935 

Who  first  his  judgment  ask'd,  and  then  a  place: 


74  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Much  they  extoU'd  his  pictures,  much  his  seat, 

And  flatter'd  ev'ry  day,  and  some  days  eat: 

Till  grown  more  frugal  in  his  riper  days, 

He  paid  some  bards  with  port,  and  some  with  praise;         240 

To  some  a  dry  rehearsal  saw  assign'd, 

And  others  (harder  still)  he  paid  in  kind. 

Dryden  alone  (what  wonder  ?)  came  not  nigh, 

Dryden  alone  escap'd  this  judging  eye: 

But  still  the  Great  have  kindness  in  reserve,  245 

He  help'd  to  bury  whom  he  help'd  to  starve. 

May  some  choice  patron  bless  each  gray  goose  quill ! 
May  ev'ry  Bavius  have  his  Bujo  still ! 
So,  when  a  Statesman  wants  a  day's  defence. 
Or  Envy  holds  a  whole  week's  war  with  Sense,  250 

Or  simple  pride  for  flatt'ry  makes  demands. 
May  dunce  by  dunce  be  whistled  off  my  hands ! 
Blest  be  the  Great!   for  those  they  take  away. 
And  those  they  left  me ;   for  they  left  me  Gay  ; 
Left  me  to  see  neglected  Genius  bloom,  ass 

Neglected  die,  and  tell  it  on  his  tomb: 
Of  all  thy  blameless  life  the  sole  return 
My  Verse,  and  Queensb'ry  weeping  o'er  thy  urn. 

Oh  let  me  live  my  own,  and  die  so  too ! 
(To  live  and  die  is  all  I  have  to  do :)  260 

Maintain  a  Poet's  dignity  and  ease. 
And  see  what  friends,  and  read  what  books  I  please; 
Above  a  Patron,  tho'  I  condescend 
Sometimes  to  call  a  minister  my  friend. 

I  was  not  born  for  Courts  or  great  affairs ;  265 

I  pay  my  debts,  believe,  and  say  my  pray'rs; 
Can  sleep  without  a  Poem  in  my  head ; 
Nor  know,  if  Dennis  be  alive  or  dead. 

Why  am  I  ask'd  what  next  shall  see  the  light? 


I 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  75 

Heav'ns !  was  I  born  for  nothing  but  to  write  ?  270 

Has  Life  no  joys  for  me  ?   or,  (to  be  grave) 

Have  I  no  friend  to  serve,  no  soul  to  save? 

"I  found  him  close  with  SwijV  —  'Indeed?   no  doubt,' 

(Cries  prating  Balbiis)  'something  will  come  out.' 

'T  is  all  in  vain,  deny  it  as  I  will.  275 

*No,  such  a  Genius  never  can  lie  still;' 

And  then  for  mine  obligingly  mistakes 

The  first  Lampoon  Sir  Will,  or  Bubo  makes. 

Poor  guiltless  I !   and  can  I  choose  but  smile. 

When  ev'ry  Coxcomb  knows  me  by  my  Style?  280 

Curst  be  the  verse,  how  well  soe'er  it  flow, 
That  tends  to  make  one  worthy  man  my  foe, 
Give  Virtue  scandal,  Innocence  a  fear. 
Or  from  the  soft-eyed  Virgin  steal  a  tear! 
But  he  who  hurts  a  harmless  neighbour's  peace,  285 

Insults  fall'n  worth,  or  Beauty  in  distress, 
Who  loves  a  Lie,  lame  slander  helps  about. 
Who  writes  a  Libel,  or  who  copies  out: 
That  Fop,  whose  pride  affects  a  patron's  name. 
Yet  absent,  wounds  an  author's  honest  fame:  390 

Who  can  your  merit  selfishly  approve. 
And  show  the  sense  of  it  without  the  love; 
Who  has  the  vanity  to  call  you  friend, 
Yet  wants  the  honour,  injur'd,  to  defend ; 
Who  tells  whate'er  you  think,  whate'er  you  say,  295 

And,  if  he  he  not,  must  at  least  betray: 
Who  to  the  Dean,  and  silver  bell  can  swear, 
And  sees  at  Canons  what  was  never  there; 
Who  reads,  but  with  a  lust  to  misapply, 

Make  Satire  a  Lampoon,  and  Fiction,  Lie.  300 

A  lash  like  mine  no  honest  man  shall  dread. 
But  all  such  babbling  blockheads  in  his  stead. 


y6  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Let  5^orM5  tremble  —    A.   What?   that  thing  of  silk, 
Sporus,  that  mere  white  curd  of  Ass's  milk? 
Satire  or  sense,  alas  !   can  Sporus  feel  ?  305 

Who  breaks  a  butterfly  upon  a  wheel? 
P.   Yet  let  me  flap  this  bug  with  gilded  wings, 
This  painted  child  of  dirt,  that  stinks  and  stings; 
Whose  buzz  the  witty  and  the  fair  annoys, 
Yet  wit  ne'er  tastes,  and  beauty  ne'er  enjoys:  310 

So  well-bred  spaniels  civilly  dehght 
In  mumbhng  of  the  game  they  dare  not  bite. 
Eternal  smiles  his  emptiness  betray, 
As  shallow  streams  run  dimpling  all  the  way. 
Whether  in  florid  impotence  he  speaks,  315 

And,  as  the  prompter  breathes,  the  puppet  squeaks; 
Or  at  the  ear  of  Eve,  familiar  Toad, 
Half  froth,  half  venom,  spits  himself  abroad, 
In  puns,  or  poUtics,  or  tales,  or  lies. 

Or  spite,  or  smut,  or  rhymes,  or  blasphemies.  320 

His  wit  all  see-saw,  between  that  and  this, 
Now  high,  now  low,  now  master  up,  now  miss. 
And  he  himself  one  vile  Antithesis. 
Amphibious  thing !   that  acting  either  part, 
The  trifling  head  or  the  corrupted  heart,  325 

Fop  at  the  toilet,  flatt'rer  at  the  board. 
Now  trips  a  Lady,  and  now  struts  a  Lord. 
Eve's  tempter  thus  the  Rabbins  have  exprest, 
A  Cherub's  face,  a  reptile  all  the  rest; 

Beauty  that  shocks  you,  parts  that  none  will  trust;  330 

Wit  that  can  creep,  and  pride  that  licks  the  dust. 

Not  Fortune's  worshipper,  nor  fashion's  fool, 
Not  Lucre's  madman,  nor  Ambition's  tool. 
Not  proud,  nor  servile;  —  be  one  Poet's  praise. 
That,  if  he  pleas'd,  he  pleas'd  by  manly  ways:  335 


\ 


EPISTLE  TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  77 

That  Flatt'ry,  ev'n  to  Kings,  he  held  a  shame, 

And  thought  a  Lie  in  verse  or  prose  the  same. 

That  not  in  Fancy's  maze  he  wander'd  long, 

But  stoop'd  to  Truth,  and  moraliz'd  his  song: 

That  not  for  Fame,  but  Virtue's  better  end,  340 

He  stood  the  furious  foe,  the  timid  friend, 

The  damning  critic,  half  approving  wit, 

The  coxcomb  hit,  or  fearing  to  be  hit; 

Laugh'd  at  the  loss  of  friends  he  never  had, 

The  dull,  the  proud,  the  wicked,  and  the  mad;  345 

The  distant  threats  of  vengeance  on  his  head, 

The  blow  unfelt,  the  tear  he  never  shed; 

The  tale  reviv'd,  the  He  so  oft  o'erthrown, 

Th'  imputed  trash,  and  dulness  not  his  own; 

The  morals  blacken'd  when  the  writings  scape,  350 

The  libell'd  person,  and  the  pictur'd  shape; 

Abuse,  on  all  he  lov'd,  or  lov'd  him,  spread, 

A  friend  in  exile,  or  a  father,  dead  ; 

The  whisper,  that  to  greatness  still  too  near, 

Perhaps,  yet  vibrates  on  his  Sov'reign's  ear: —  355 

Welcome  for  thee,  fair  Virtue /   all  the  past; 

For  thee,  fair  Virtue !   welcome  ev'n  the  lasl  I 

A.    But  why  insult  the  poor,  affront  the  great? 
P.   A  knave  's  a  knave,  to  me,  in  ev'ry  state: 
Alike  my  scorn,  if  he  succeed  or  fail,  360 

Sporus  at  court,  or  Japhet  in  a  jail. 
A  hireUng  scribbler,  or  a  hireHng  peer, 
Knight  of  the  post  corrupt,  or  of  the  shire; 
If  on  a  Pillory,  or  near  a  Throne, 
He  gain  his  Prince's  ear,  or  lose  his  own.  365 

Yet  soft  by  nature,  more  a  dupe  than  wit, 
Sappho  can  tell  you  how  this  man  was  bit; 
This  dreaded  Sat'rist  Dennis  will  confess 


yS  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

Foe  to  his  pride,  but  friend  to  his  distress : 

So  humble,  he  has  knock'd  at  Tibbald's  door,  37o 

Has  drunk  with  Gibber,  nay  has  rhym'd  for  Moore. 

Full  ten  years  slander'd,  did  he  once  reply? 

Three  thousand  suns  went  down  on  Welsted's  lie. 

To  please  a  Mistress  one  aspers'd  his  Ufe ; 

He  lash'd  him  not,  but  let  her  be  his  wife.  375 

Let  Budget  charge  low  Griibstreet  on  his  quill, 

And  write  whate'er  he  pleas'd,  except  his  Will; 

Let  the  two  Curlls  of  Town  and  Court,  abuse 

His  father,  mother,  body,  soul,  and  muse. 

Yet  why  ?   that  Father  held  it  for  a  rule,  380 

It  was  a  sin  to  call  our  neighbour  fool: 

That  harmless  Mother  thought  no  wife  a  whore: 

Hear  this,  and  spare  his  family,  James  Moore  t 

Unspotted  names,  and  memorable  long! 

If  there  be  force  in  Virtue,  or  in  Song.  385 

Of  gentle  blood  (part  shed  in  Honour's  cause, 
While  yet  in  Britain  Honour  had  applause) 
Each  parent  sprung  —  A.   What  fortune,  pray?  —  P.   Their 

own, 
And  better  got,  than  Bestia's  from  the  throne. 
Born  to  no  Pride,  inheriting  no  Strife,  390 

Nor  marrying  Discord  in  a  noble  wife, 
Stranger  to  civil  and  rehgious  rage. 
The  good  man  walk'd  innoxious  thro'  his  age. 
Nor  Courts  he  saw,  no  suits  would  ever  try, 
Nor  dar'd  an  Oath,  nor  hazarded  a  Lie.  395 

Un-learn'd,  he  knew  no  schoolman's  subtle  art, 
No  language,  but  the  language  of  the  heart. 
By  Nature  honest,  by  Experience  wise. 
Healthy  by  temp'rance,  and  by  exercise; 
His  life,  tho'  long,  to  sickness  past  unknovm,  400 


EPISTLE   TO   DR    ARBUTHNOT  79 

His  death  was  instant,  and  without  a  groan. 

O  grant  me,  thus  to  Uve,  and  thus  to  die ! 

Who  sprung  from  Kings  shall  know  less  joy  than  I. 

O  Friend  !   may  each  domestic  bliss  be  thine ! 
Be  no  unpleasing  Melancholy  mine:  405 

Me,  let  the  tender  office  long  engage. 
To  rock  the  cradle  of  reposing  Age, 
With  lenient  arts  extend  a  Mother's  breath. 
Make  Languor  smile,  and  smooth  the  bed  of  Death, 
Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye,  410 

And  keep  a  while  one  parent  from  the  sky ! 
On  cares  like  these  if  length  of  days  attend, 
May  Heav'n,  to  bless  those  days,  preserve  my  friend, 
Preserve  him  social,  cheerful,  and  serene, 
And  just  as  rich  as  when  he  serv'd  a  Queen.  415 

A.   Whether  that  blessing  be  deny'd  or  giv'n, 
Thus  far  was  right,  the  rest  belongs  to  Heav'n. 


ODE  ON  SOLITUDE 

Happy  the  man  whose  wish  and  care 

A  few  paternal  acres  bound, 
Content  to  breathe  his  native  air, 
In  his  own  ground. 

Whose  herds  with  milk,  whose  fields  with  bread, 

Whose  flocks  supply  him  with  attire. 
Whose  trees  in  summer  yield  him  shade, 
In  winter  fire. 

Blest,  who  can  unconcern'dly  find 

Hours,  days,  and  years  slide  soft  away, 
In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind. 
Quiet  by  day, 

Sound  sleep  by  night ;  study  and  ease, 

Together  mixt ;   sweet  recreation ; 
And  Innocence,  which  most  does  please 
With  meditation. 

Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unknown, 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die. 
Steal  from  the  world,  and  not  a  stone 
Tell  where  I  he. 


Ho 


lO 


IS 


ao 


THE   DESCENT   OF   DULLNESS  8l 

THE  DESCENT  OF  DULLNESS 

[From  the  Dunciad,  Book  IV] 

In  vain,  in  vain  —  the  all-composing  Hour 
Resistless  falls :   the  Muse  obeys  the  Pow'r. 
She  comes !   she  comes !   the  sable  Throne  behold 
Of  Night  primaeval  and  of  Chaos  old ! 
Before  her,  Fancy's  gilded  clouds  decay,  S 

And  all  its  varying  Rain-bows  die  away. 
Wit  shoots  in  vain  its  momentary  fires, 
The  meteor  drops,  and  in  a  flash  expires. 
As  one  by  one,  at  dread  Medea's  strain. 
The  sick'ning  stars  fade  off  th'  ethereal  plain;  lo 

As  Argus'  eyes  by  Hermes'  wand  opprest, 
Clos'd  one  by  one  to  everlasting  rest; 
Thus  at  her  felt  approach,  and  secret  might, 
Art  after  Art  goes  out,  and  all  is  Night. 
See  skulking  Truth  to  her  old  cavern  fled,  iS 

Mountains  of  Casuistry  heap'd  o'er  her  head ! 
Philosophy,  that  lean'd  on  Heav'n  before. 
Shrinks  to  her  second  cause,  and  is  no  more. 
Physic  of  M etaphysic  begs  defence, 

And  M etaphysic  calls  for  aid  on  Sense  I  20 

See  Mystery  to  Mathematics  fly ! 
In  vain !   they  gaze,  turn  giddy,  rave,  and  die. 
Religion  blushing  veils  her  sacred  fires. 
And  unawares  Morality  expires. 

For  public  Flame,  nor  private,  dares  to  shine;  25 

Nor  human  Spark  is  left,  nor  Glimpse  divine  1 
Lo !   thy  dread  Empire,  Chaos  !   is  restor'd ; 
Light  dies  before  thy  uncreating  word ; 
Thy  hand,  great  Anarch!   lets  the  curtain  fall, 
And  universal  Darkness  buries  All.  30 


82  SELECTIONS   FROM   POPE 

ON  MR.    GAY 

In  Westminster  Abbey,  1732 

Of  Manners  gentle,  ot  Affections  mild; 

In  Wit,  a  Man ;   Simplicity,  a  Child : 

With  native  Humour  temp'ring  virtuous  Rage, 

Form'd  to  delight  at  once  and  lash  the  age: 

Above  Temptation,  in  a  low  Estate,  5 

And  uncorrupted,  ev'n  among  the  Great:' 

A  safe  Companion,  and  an  easy  Friend, 

Unblam'd  thro'  Life,  lamented  in  thy  End. 

These  are  Thy  Honours !   not  that  here  thy  Bust 

Is  mix'd  vs^ith  Heroes,  or  vi^ith  Kings  thy  dust;  10 

But  that  the  Worthy  and  the  Good  shall  say, 

Striking  their  pensive  bosoms  —  Here  lies  Gay. 


NOTES 

THE  RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK 

INTRODUCTION 

In  171 1  Pope,  who  had  just  published  his  Essay  on  Criticism,  was 
looking  about  for  new  worlds  to  conquer.  A  fortunate  chance  threw 
in  his  way  a  subject  exactly  suited  to  his  tastes  and  powers.  He  seized 
upon  it,  dashed  off  his  first  sketch  in  less  than  a  fortnight,  and  published 
it  anonymously  in  a  Miscellany  issued  by  Lintot  in  1712.  But  the  theme 
had  taken  firm  root  in  his  mind.  Dissatisfied  with  his  first  treatment  of 
it,  he  determined,  against  the  advice  of  the  best  critic  of  the  day,  to  re- 
cast the  work,  and  lift  it  from  a  mere  society  jeu  d' esprit  into  an  elabo- 
rate mock-heroic  poem.  He  did  so  and  won  a  complete  success.  Even 
yet,  however,  he  was  not  completely  satisfied  and  from  time  to  time  he 
added  a  touch  to  his  work  until  he  finally  produced  the  finished  picture 
which  we  know  as  The  Rape  of  the  Lock.  As  it  stands,  it  is  an  almost 
flawless  masterpiece,  a  brilliant  picture  and  light-hearted  mockery  of 
the  gay  society  of  Queen  Anne's  day,  on  the  whole  the  most  satisfactory 
creation  of  Pope's  genius,  and,  perhaps,  the  best  example  of  the  mock- 
heroic  in  any  literature. 

The  occasion  which  gave  rise  to  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  has  been  so 
often  related  that  it  requires  only  a  brief  restatement.  Among  the  Catholic 
families  of  Queen  Anne's  day,  who  formed  a  little  society  of  their  own, 
Miss  Arabella  Fermor  was  a  reigning  belle.  In  a  youthful  frolic  which 
overstepped  the  bounds  of  propriety  Lord  Petre,  a  young  nobleman  of 
her  acquaintance,  cut  off  a  lock  of  her  hair.  The  lady  was  offended,  the 
two  families  took  up  the  quarrel,  a  lasting  estrangement,  possibly  even 
a  duel,  was  threatened.  At  this  juncture  a  common  friend  of  the  two  fami- 
lies, a  Mr.  Caryll,  nephew  of  a  well-known  Jacobite  exile  for  whom  he  is 
sometimes  mistaken,  suggested  to  Pope  "  to  write  a  poem  to  make  a 
jest  of  it,"  and  so  kill  the  quarrel  with  laughter.     Pope  consented,  wrote 

83 


84  NOTES 

his  first  draft  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  and  passed  it  about  in  manuscript. 
Pope  says  himself  that  it  had  its  effect  in  the  two  families;  certainly 
nothing  more  is  heard  of  the  feud.  How  Miss  Fermor  received  the 
poem  is  a  little  uncertain.  Pope  complains  in  a  letter  written  some  months 
after  the  poem  had  appeared  in  print  that  "  the  celebrated  lady  is  of- 
fended." According  to  Johnson  she  liked  the  verses  well  enough  to  show 
them  to  her  friends,  and  a  niece  of  hers  said  years  afterward  that  Mr. 
Pope's  praise  had  made  her  aunt  "very  troublesome  and  conceited." 
It  is  not  improbable  that  Belinda  was  both  flattered  and  offended. 
Delighted  with  the  praise  of  her  beauty  she  may  none  the  less  have  felt 
called  upon  to  play  the  part  of  the  offended  lady  when  the  poem  got  about 
and  the  ribald  wits  of  the  day  began  to  read  into  it  double  meanings 
which  reflected  upon  her  reputation.  To  soothe  her  ruffled  feelings  Pope 
dedicated  the  second  edition  of  the  poem  to  her  in  a  delightful  letter  in 
which  he  thanked  her  for  having  permitted  the  publication  of  the  first 
edition  to  forestall  an  imperfect  copy  offered  to  a  bookseller,  declared 
that  the  character  of  Belinda  resembled  her  in  nothing  but  in  beauty, 
and  affirmed  that  he  could  never  hope  that  his  poem  should  pass  through 
the  world  half  so  uncensured  as  she  had  done.  It  would  seem  that  the 
modern  critics  who  have  undertaken  to  champion  Miss  Fermor  against 
what  they  are  pleased  to  term  the  revolting  behavior  of  the  poet  are  fight- 
ing a  needless  battle.  A  pretty  girl  who  would  long  since  have  been  for- 
gotten sat  as  an  unconscious  model  to  a  great  poet;  he  made  her  the  cen- 
tral figure  in  a  brilliant  picture  and  rendered  her  name  immortal.  That 
is  the  whole  story,  and  when  carping  critics  begin  to  search  the  poem  for 
the  improprieties  of  conduct  to  which  they  say  Pope  alluded,  one  has  but 
to  answer  in  Pope's  own  words. 

If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall, 
Look  on  her  face,  and  you'll  forget  'em  all. 

Pope's  statement  in  the  dedication  that  he  had  been  forced  into  pub- 
lishing the  first  draft  of  the  poem  before  his  design  of  enlarging  it  was 
half  executed  is  probably  to  be  taken,  like  many  of  his  statements,  with  a 
sufficient  grain  of  salt.  Pope  had  a  curious  habit  of  protesting  that  he 
was  forced  into  publishing  his  letters,  poems,  and  other  trifles,  merely 
to  forestall  the  appearance  of  unauthorized  editions.  It  is  more  likely 
that  it  was  the  undoubted  success  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  in  its  first  form 
which  gave  him  the  idea  of  working  up  the  sketch  into  a  complete  mock- 
heroic  poem. 


NOTES  85 

Examples  of  such  a  poem  were  familiar  enough  to  Pope.  Not  to  go 
back  to  the  pseudo-Homeric  mock  epic  which  relates  the  battle  of  the 
frogs  and  mice,  Vida  in  Italy  and  Boileau  in  France,  with  both  of  whom 
Pope,  as  the  Essay  on  Criticism  shows,  was  well  acquainted,  had  done  work 
of  this  kind.  Vida's  description  of  the  game  of  chess  in  his  Scacchia 
Ludus  certainly  gave  him  the  model  for  the  game  of  ombre  in  the  third 
canto  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock;  Boileau's  Lutrin  probably  suggested 
to  him  the  idea  of  using  the  mock-heroic  for  the  purposes  of  satire. 

Now  it  was  a  dogma  of  the  critical  creed  of  the  day,  which  Pope  de- 
voutly accepted,  that  every  epic  must  have  a  well-recognized  "machinery." 
Machinery,  as  he  kindly  explained  to  Miss  Fermor,  was  a  "term  invented 
by  the  critics  to  signify  that  part  which  the  deities,  angels,  or  demons 
are  made  to  act  in  a  poem,"  in  short  for  the  whole  supernatural  element. 
Such  machinery  was  quite  wanting  in  the  first  draft  of  the  Rape;  it  must 
be  supplied  if  the  poem  was  to  be  a  true  epic,  even  of  the  comic  kind.  And 
the  machinery  must  be  of  a  nature  which  would  lend  itself  to  the  light 
satiric  tone  of  the  poem.  What  was  it  to  be  ?  The  employment  of  what 
we  may  call  Christian  machinery,  the  angels  and  devils  of  Tasso  and  Mil- 
ton, was,  of  course,  out  of  the  question.  The  employment  of  the  classic 
machinery  was  almost  as  impossible.  It  would  have  been  hard  for  such 
an  admirer  of  the  classics  as  Pope  to  have  taken  the  deities  of  Olympus 
otherwise  than  seriously.  And  even  if  he  had  been  able  to  treat  them 
humorously,  the  humor  would  have  been  a  form  of  burlesque  quite  at 
variance  with  what  he  had  set  out  to  accomplish.  For  Pope's  purpose, 
springing  naturally  from  the  occasion  which  set  him  to  writing  the  Rape, 
was  not  to  burlesque  what  was  naturally  lofty  by  exhibiting  it  in  a  de- 
graded light,  but  to  show  the  true  littleness  of  the  trivial  by  treating  it  in  a 
grandiose  and  mock-heroic  fashion,  to  make  the  quarrel  over  the  stolen 
lock  ridiculous  by  raising  it  to  the  plane  of  the  epic  contest  before  the 
walls  of  Troy. 

In  his  perplexity  a  happy  thought,  little  less  in  fact  than  an  inspiration 
of  genius,  came  to  Pope.  He  had  been  reading  a  book  by  a  clever  French 
abbe  treating  in  a  satiric  fashion  of  the  doctrines  of  the  so-called  Rosi- 
crucians,  in  particular  of  their  ideas  of  elemental  spirits  and  the  influence 
of  these  spirits  upon  human  affairs.  Here  was  the  machinery  he  was 
looking  for  made  to  his  hand.  There  would  be  no  burlesque  in  intro- 
ducing the  Rosicrucian  sylphs  and  gnomes  into  a  mock-heroic  poem, 
for  few  people,  certainly  not  the  author  of  the  Comte  de  Gabalis,  took  them 
seriously.     Yet  the  widespread  popularity  of  this  book,  to  say  nothing  of 


86  NOTES 

the  existence  of  certain  Rosicrucian  societies,  had  rendered  their  names 
familiar  to  the  society  for  which  Pope  wrote.  He  had  but  to  weave  them 
into  the  action  of  his  poem,  and  the  brilliant  little  sketch  of  society  was 
transformed  into  a  true  mock-epic. 

The  manner  in  which  this  interweaving  was  accomplished  is  one  of  the 
most  satisfactory  evidences  of  Pope's  artistic  genius.  He  was  proud  of 
it  himself.  "The  making  the  machinery,  and  what  was  published  be- 
fore, hit  so  well  together,  is,"  he  told  Spencer,  "  I  think,  one  of  the  great- 
est proofs  of  judgment  of  anything  I  ever  did."  And  he  might  well  be 
proud.  Macaulay,  in  a  well-known  passage,  has  pointed  out  how  seldom 
in  the  history  of  literature  such  a  recasting  of  a  poem  has  been  success- 
fully accomplished.  But  Pope's  revision  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  was  so 
successful  that  the  original  form  was  practically  done  away  with.  No 
one  reads  it  now  but  professed  students  of  the  literature  of  Queen  Anne's 
time.  And  so  artfully  has  the  new  matter  been  woven  into  the  old  that, 
if  the  recasting  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  were  not  a  commonplace  even 
in  school  histories  of  English  literature,  not  one  reader  in  a  hundred 
would  suspect  that  the  original  sketch  had  been  revised  and  enlarged  to 
more  than  twice  its  length.  It  would  be  an  interesting  task  for  the 
student  to  compare  the  two  forms  printed  in  this  edition,  to  note  exactly 
what  has  been  added,  and  the  reasons  for  its  addition,  and  to  mark 
how  Pope  has  smoothed  the  junctures  and  blended  the  old  and  the  new. 
Nothing  that  he  could  do  would  admit  him  more  intimately  to  the 
secrets  of  Pope's  mastery  of  his  art. 

A  word  must  be  said  in  closing  as  to  the  merits  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock 
and  its  position  in  English  literature.  In  the  first  place  it  is  an  inimi- 
table picture  of  one  phase,  at  least,  of  the  life  of  the  time,  of  the  gay,  witty, 
heartless  society  of  Queen  Anne's  day.  Slowly  recovering  from  the 
licentious  excesses  of  the  Restoraion,  society  at  this  time  was  perhaps 
unmoral  rather  than  immoral.  It  was  quite  without  ideals,  unless  in- 
deed the  conventions  of  "  good  form  "  may  be  dignified  by  that  name. 
It  lacked  the  brilliant  enthusiasm  of  Elizabethan  times  as  well  as  the 
religious  earnestness  of  the  Puritans  and  the  devotion  to  patriotic  and 
social  ideals  which  marked  a  later  age.  Nothing,  perhaps,  is  more  char- 
acteristic of  the  age  than  its  attitude  toward  women.  It  affected  indeed 
a  tone  of  high-flown  adoration  which  thinly  veiled  a  cynical  contempt. 
It  styled  woman  a  goddess  and  really  regarded  her  as  little  better  than  a 
doll.  The  passion  of  love  had  fallen  from  the  high  estate  it  once  possessed 
and  become  the  mere  relaxation  of  the  idle  moments  of  a  man  of  fashion. 


NOTES  87 

In  the  comedies  of  Congreve,  for  example,  a  lover  even  if  honestly  in  love 
thinks  it  as  incumbent  upon  hira  to  make  light  of  his  passion  before  his 
friends  as  to  exaggerate  it  in  all  the  forms  of  affected  compliment  before 
his  mistress. 

In  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  Pope  has  caught  and  fixed  forever  the  atmos- 
phere of  this  age.  It  is  not  the  mere  outward  form  and  circumstance, 
the  manners  and  customs,  the  patching,  powdering,  ogUng,  gambling,  of 
the  day  that  he  has  reproduced,  though  his  account  of  these  would  alone 
suflSce  to  secure  the  poem  immortahty  as  a  contribution  to  the  history  of 
society.  The  essential  spirit  of  the  age  breathes  from  every  line.  No 
great  English  poem  is  at  once  so  brilliant  and  so  empty,  so  artistic,  and 
yet  so  devoid  of  the  ideals  on  which  all  high  art  rests.  It  is  incorrect,  I 
think,  to  consider  Pope  in  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  as  the  satirist  of  his  age. 
He  was  indeed  clever  enough  to  perceive  its  follies,  and  witty  enough  to 
make  sport  of  them,  but  it  is  much  to  be  doubted  whether  he  was  wise 
enough  at  this  time  to  raise  his  eyes  to  anything  better.  In  the  social 
satires  of  Pope's  great  admirer,  Byron,  we  are  at  no  loss  to  perceive  the 
ideal  of  personal  liberty  which  the  poet  opposes  to  the  conventions  he  tears 
to  shreds.  Is  it  possible  to  discover  in  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  any  substitute 
for  Belinda's  fancies  and  the  Baron's  freaks?  The  speech  of  Clarissa 
which  Pope  inserted  as  an  afterthought  to  point  the  moral  of  the  poem 
recommends  Belinda  to  trust  to  merit  rather  than  to  charms.  But 
"  merit "  is  explicitly  identified  with  good  humor,  a  very  amiable  quality, 
but  hardly  of  the  highest  rank  among  the  moral  virtues.  And  the  avowed 
end  and  purpose  of  "merit"  is  merely  to  preserve  what  beauty  gains, 
the  flattering  attentions  of  the  other  sex,  —  surely  the  lowest  ideal  ever 
set  before  womankind.  The  truth  is,  I  think,  that  The  Rape  of  the 
Lock  represents  Pope's  attitude  toward  the  social  life  of  his  time  in  the 
period  of  his  brilliant  youth.  He  was  at  once  dazzled,  amused,  and 
delighted  by  the  gay  world  in  which  he  found  himself.  The  apples  of 
pleasure  had  not  yet  turned  to  ashes  on  his  lips,  and  it  is  the  poet's  sym- 
pathy with  the  world  he  paints  which  gives  to  the  poem  the  air,  most 
characteristic  of  the  age  itself,  of  easy,  idle,  unthinking  gayety.  We 
would  not  have  it  otherwise.  There  are  sermons  an  1  satires  in  abun- 
dance in  English  literature,  but  there  is  only  one  Rape  of  the  Lock. 

The  form  of  the  poem  is  in  perfect  correspondence  with  its  spirit. 
There  is  an  immense  advance  over  the  Essay  on  Criticism  in  ease,  polish, 
and  balance  of  matter  and  manner.  And  it  is  not  merely  in  matters  of 
detail  that  the  supremacy  of  the  latter  poem  is  apparent.     The  Rape  of 


88  NOTES 

tJie  Lock  is  remarkable  among  all  Pope's  longer  poems  as  the  one  complete 
and  perfect  whole.  It  is  no  mosaic  of  brilliant  epigrams,  but  an  organic 
creation.  It  is  impossible  to  detach  any  one  of  its  witty  paragraphs  and 
read  it  with  the  same  pleasure  it  arouses  when  read  in  its  proper  connec- 
tion. Thalestris'  call  to  arms  and  Clarissa's  moral  reproof  are  integral 
parts  of  the  poem.  And  as  a  result,  perhaps,  of  its  essential  unity  The 
Rape  of  the  Lock  bears  witness  to  the  presence  of  a  power  in  Pope  that 
we  should  hardly  have  suspected  from  his  other  works,  the  power  of  dra- 
matic characterization.  Elsewhere  he  has  shown  himself  a  master  of 
brilliant  portraiture,  but  Belinda,  the  Baron,  and  Thalestris  are  some- 
thing more  than  portraits.  They  are  Kving  eople,  acting  and  speaking 
with  admirable  consistency.  Even  the  little  sketch  of  Sir  Plume  is 
instinct  with  life. 

Finally  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  in  its  limitations  and  defects,  no  less  than 
in  its  excellencies,  represents  a  whole  period  of  English  poetry,  the  period 
which  reaches  with  but  few  exceptions  from  Dryden  to  Wordsworth. 
The  creed  which  dominated  poetic  composition  during  this  period  is  dis- 
cussed in  the  introduction  to  the  Essay  on  Criticism  (see  p.  103)  and  is 
admirably  illustrated  in  that  poem  itself.  Its  repression  of  individuality, 
its  insistence  upon  the  necessity  of  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  classic 
poets,  and  of  checking  the  outbursts  of  imagination  by  the  rules  of  com- 
mon sense,  simply  incapacitated  the  poets  of  the  period  from  producing 
works  of  the  highest  order.  And  its  insistence  upon  man  as  he  appeared 
in  the  conventional,  urban  society  of  the  day  as  the  one  true  theme  of 
poetry,  its  belief  that  the  end  of  poetry  was  to  instruct  and  improve  either 
by  positive  teaching  or  by  negative  satire,  still  further  limited  its  field. 
One  must  remember  in  attempting  an  estimate  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock 
that  it  was  composed  with  an  undoubting  acceptance  of  this  creed  and 
within  all  these  narrowing  limitations.  And  when  this  is  borne  in  mind, 
it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the  poem  attains  the  highest  point  possi- 
ble. In  its  treatment  of  the  supernatural  it  is  as  original  as  a  poem  could 
be  at  that  day.  The  brilliancy  of  its  picture  of  contemporary  society 
could  not  be  heightened  by  a  single  stroke.  Its  satire  is  swift  and  keen,  but 
never  ill  natured.  And  the  personality  of  Pope  himself  shines  through 
every  line.  Johnson  advised  authors  who  wished  to  attain  a  perfect  style 
to  give  their  days  and  nights  to  a  study  of  Addison.  With  equal  justice 
one  might  advise  students  who  wish  to  catch  the  spirit  of  our  so-called 
Augustan  age,  and  to  realize  at  once  the  limitations  and  possibilities  of 
its  poetry,  to  devote  themselves  to  the  study  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock. 


NOTES  89 


DEDICATION 

Mrs.  Arabella:  the  title  of  Mrs.  was  still  given  in  Pope's  time  to  unmar- 
ried ladies  as  soon  as  they  were  old  enough  to  enter  society. 

the  Rosicrucian  doctrine:  the  first  mention  of  the  Rosicrucians  is  in 
a  book  published  in  Germany  in  1614,  inviting  all  scholars  to  join  the  ranks 
of  a  secret  society  said  to  have  been  founded  two  centuries  before  by  a 
certain  Christian  Rosenkreuz  who  had  mastered  the  hidden  wisdom  of 
the  East.  It  seems  probable  that  this  book  was  an  elaborate  hoax,  but 
it  was  taken  seriously  at  the  time,  and  the  seventeenth  century  saw  the 
formation  of  numerous  groups  of  "  Brothers  of  the  Rosy  Cross."  They 
dabbled  in  alchemy,  spiritualism,  and  magic,  and  mingled  modern  science 
with  superstitions  handed  down  from  ancient  times.  Pope  probably 
knew  nothing  more  of  them  than  what  he  had  read  in  Le  Cotnte  de 
Gahalis. 

This  was  the  work  of  a  French  abbe,  de  Montfaucon  Villars  (1635- 
1673),  who  was  well  known  in  his  day  both  as  a  preacher  and  a  man  of 
letters.  It  is  really  a  satire  upon  the  fashionable  mystical  studies,  but 
treats  in  a  tone  of  pretended  seriousness  of  secret  sciences,  of  elemental 
spirits,  and  of  their  intercourse  with  men.  It  was  translated  into  Eng- 
lish in  1680  and  again  in  17 14. 

CANTO  I 

Lines  1-2  Pope  opens  his  mock-epic  with  the  usual  epic  formula, 
the  statement  of  the  subject.  Compare  the  first  lines  of  the  Iliad,  the 
j^neid,  and  Paradise  Lost.  In  1.  7  he  goes  on  to  call  upon  the  "  god- 
dess," i.e.  the  muse,  to  relate  the  cause  of  the  rape.  This,  too,  is  an  epic 
formula.     Compare  Mneid,  I,  8,  and  Paradise  Lost,  I,  27-33. 

3  Caryl:  see  Introduction,  p.  83.  In  accordance  with  his  wish  his 
name  was  not  printed  in  the  editions  of  the  poem  that  came  out  in  Pope's 
lifetime,  appearing  there  only  as  C or  C /. 

4  Belinda:  a  name  used  by  Pope  to  denote  Miss  Fermor,  the  hero- 
ine of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock. 

12  This  line  is  almost  a  translation  of  a  line  in  the  yEneid  (I,  11), 
where  Virgil  asks  if  it  be  possible  that  such  fierce  passions  (as  Juno's) 
should  exist  in  the  minds  of  gods. 

13  Sol:  a  good  instance  of  the  fondness  which  Pope  shared  with  most 
poets  of  his  time  for  giving  classical  names  to  objects  of  nature.    This 


c,o  NOTES 

trick  was  supposed  to  adorn  and  elevate  poetic  diction.    Try  to  find  other 
instances  of  this  in  Tlie  Rape  of  the  Lock. 
Why  is  the  sun's  ray  called  "  tim'rous  "  ? 

16  It  was  an  old  convention  that  lovers  were  so  troubled  by  their 
passion  that  they  could  not  sleep.  In  the  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury 
Ta/fi  (11.  97-98),  Chaucer  says  of  the  young  squire  — 

So  hote  he  lovede,  that  by  nightertale 
He  sleep  namore  than  dooth  a  nightingale. 

Pope,  of  course,  is  laughing  at  the  easy-going  lovers  of  his  day  who  in 
spite  of  their  troubles  sleep  very  comfortably  till  noon. 

17  The  lady  on  awaking  rang  a  Httle  hand-bell  that  stood  on  a  table 
bv  her  bed  to  call  her  maid.  Then  as  the  maid  did  not  appear  at  once  she 
tapped  impatiently  on  the  floor  with  the  heel  of  her  slipper.  The  watch 
in  the  next  line  was  a  repeater. 

19  All  the  rest  of  this  canto  was  added  in  the  second  edition  of  the 
poem.  See  pp.  84-86.  Pope  did  not  notice  that  he  describes  Belinda 
as  waking  in  1.  14  and  still  asleep  and  dreaming  in  11.  19-116. 

20  guardian  Sylph:    compare  11.  67-78. 

23  a  Birth-night  Beau:  a  fine  gentleman  in  his  best  clothes,  such  as  he 
would  wear  at  a  ball  on  the  occasion  of  a  royal  birthday. 

30  The  nurse  would  have  told  Belinda  the  old  tales  of  fairies  who 
danced  by  moonlight  on  rings  in  the  greensward,  and  dropped  silver  coins 
into  the  shoes  of  tidy  little  maids.  The  priest,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
have  repeated  to  her  the  legend  of  St.  Ceciha  and  her  guardian  angel  who 
once  appeared  in  bodily  form  to  her  husband  holding  two  rose  garlands 
gathered  in  Paradise,  or  of  St.  Dorothea,  who  sent  an  angel  messen- 
ger with  a  basket  of  heavenly  fruits  and  flowers  to  convert  the  pagan 
Theophilus. 

42   militia :  used  here  in  the  general  sense  of  "  soldiery." 

44  the  box:    in  the  theater. 

the  ring:  the  drive  in  Hyde  Park,  where  the  ladies  of  society  took  the 
air. 

46  a  chair:  a  sedan  chair  in  which  ladies  used  to  be  carried  about. 
Why  is  BeUnda  told  to  scorn  it  ? 

50  What  is  the  meaning  of  "  vehicles  "  in  this  line  ? 

66  Ombre:  the  fashionable  game  of  cards  in  Pope's  day.  See  his 
account  of  a  game  in  Canto  III  and  the  notes  on  that  passage. 

57-67  See  Introduction,  p.  85. 


NOTES  91 

69-70  Compare  Paradise  Lost,  I,  423-431. 
79  conscious  of  their  face:    proud  of  their  beauty. 
81   These:  the  gnomes  who  urge  the  vain  beauties  to  disdain  all  offers 
of  love  and  play  the  part  of  prudes. 

85  garters,  stars,  and  coronets:  the  garter  is  the  badge  of  the  Knights 
of  the  Garter,  an  order  founded  by  Edward  III,  to  which  only  noble 
princes  and  noblemen  of  the  highest  rank  were  admitted.  "Stars  "  are 
the  jeweled  decorations  worn  by  members  of  other  noble  orders.  "  Coro- 
nets "  are  the  inferior  crowns  worn  by  princes  and  nobles,  not  by  sov- 
ereigns. 

86  "  Your  Grace  " :  the  title  bestowed  in  England  on  a  duchess.  The 
idea  in  this  passage,  11.  83-86,  is  that  the  gnomes  fill  the  girls'  minds  with 
hopes  of  a  splendid  marriage  and  so  induce  them  to  "  deny  love." 

94  impertinence:    purposeless  flirtation. 

97-98  Florio  .  .  .  Damon:  poetic  names  for  fine  gentlemen;  no  special 
individuals  are  meant. 

100  Why  is  a  woman's  heart  called  a  "  toy-shop  "  ? 

101  Sword-knots:  tassels  worn  at  the  hilts  of  swords.  In  Pope's  day 
every  gentleman  carried  a   sword,  and  these  sword-knots  were  often  very 

gay. 

105  who  thy  protection  claim:  what  is  the  exact  meaning  of  his 
phrase  ? 

108  thy  niling  Star :  the  star  that  controls  thy  destinies,  a  reference  to 
the  old  belief  in  astrology. 

115  Shock:  Belinda's  pet  dog.  His  name  would  seem  to  show  that 
he  was  a  rough-haired  terrier. 

118  Does  this  line  mean  that  Belinda  had  never  seen  a  billet-dou.x 
before  ? 

119  Wounds,  Charms,  and  Ardors:  the  usual  language  of  a  love-letter 
at  this  time. 

124  the  Cosmetic  pow'rs:  the  deities  that  preside  over  a  lady's  toilet. 
Note  the  playful  satire  with  which  Pope  describes  Belinda's  toilet  as  if  it 
were  a  religious  ceremony.     Who  is  "  th'  inferior  priestess  "  in  1.  127? 

131   nicely:  carefully. 

134  Arabia:   famous  for  its  perfumes. 

145   set  the  head:    arrange  the  head-dress. 

147  Betty:  Belinda's  maid. 


92  NOTES 


CANTO  II 

4  Launch'd:   embarked. 

26  springes:   snares. 

26  the  finny  prey:  a  characteristic  instance  of  Pope's  preference  or 
circumlocution  to  a  direct  phrase. 

35-36  A  regular  formula  in  classical  epics.  In  Virgil  (XI,  794-795) 
Phoebus  grants  part  of  the  prayer  of  Arruns;  the  other  part  he  scatters  to 
the  light  winds. 

38  vast  French  Romances:  these  romances  were  the  customary  read- 
ing of  society  in  Pope's  day  when  there  were  as  yet  no  English  novels. 
Some  of  them  were  of  enormous  length.  Addison  found  several  of  them  in 
a  typical  lady's  library,  great  folio  volumes,  finely  bound  in  gilt  {Spectator, 

37)- 

58  All  but  the  Sylph:  so  in  Homer  (1-25),  while  all  the  rest  of  the  army 

is  sleeping  Agamemnon  is  disturbed  by  fear  of  the  doom  impending  over 

the  Greeks  at  the  hands  of  Hector. 

60  Waft:   wave,  or  flutter. 

70  Superior  by  the  head:  so  in  Homer  {Iliad,  III,  225-227)  Ajax  is 
described  as  towering  over  the  other  Greeks  by  head  and  shoulders. 

73  sylphids:    a  feminine  form  of  "  sylphs." 

74  This  formal  opening  of  Ariel's  address  to  his  followers  is  a  parody 
of  a  passage  in  Paradise  Lost,  V,  600-601. 

75  spheres:    either  "  worlds  "  or  in  a  more  general  sense  "  regions." 
79  What  are  the  "  wandering  orbs,"  and  how  do  they  differ  from 

planets  in  1.  80? 

97  a  wash:   a  lotion  for  the  complexion. 

105  Diana,  the  virgin  huntress,  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  the  goddess  of 
chastity. 

106  China  jar:  the  taste  for  collecting  old  china  was  comparatively 
new  in  England  at  this  time.  It  had  been  introduced  from  Holland  by 
Queen  Anne's  sister.  Queen  Mary,  and  was  eagerly  caught  up  by  fashion- 
able society. 

113  The  drops:    the  diamond  earrings. 

118  the  Petticoat:  the  huge  hoop  skirt  which  had  recently  become 
fashionable.  Addison,  in  a  humorous  paper  in  the  Tatler  (No.  116), 
describes  one  as  about  twenty-four  yards  in  circxxmference. 

128   bodkin:   a  large  needle. 

132  rivel'd:    an  obsolete  raiment  of  "  obrivelled." 


NOTES  93 

138  Izion:  according  to  classical  mythology  Ixion  was  punished  for 
his  sins  by  being  bound  forever  upon  a  whirling  wheel. 

134  Mill:  the  mill  in  which  cakes  of  chocolate  were  ground  up  pre- 
paratory to  making  the  beverage. 

138  orb  in  orb:   in  concentric  circles. 

139  thrid:   a  variant  form  of  "  thread." 

CANTO  III 

3  a  structure:  Hampton  Court,  a  palace  on  the  Thames,  a  few  miles 
above  London.  It  was  begun  by  Wolsey,  and  much  enlarged  by  William 
III.  Queen  Anne  visited  it  occasionally,  and  cabinet  meetings  were  some- 
times held  there.  Pope  insinuates  (1.  6)  that  the  statesmen  who  met  in 
these  councils  were  as  interested  in  the  conquest  of  English  ladies  as  of 
foreign  enemies. 

8  Tea  was  still  in  Queen  Anne's  day  a  luxury  confined  to  the  rich. 
It  cost,  in  1 710,  from  twelve  to  twenty-eight  shillings  per  pound. 

9  The  heroes  and  the  nymphs:  the  boating  party  which  started  for 
Hampton  Court  in  Canto  II. 

17  Snuff-taking  had  just  become  fashionable  at  this  time.  The 
practice  is  said  to  date  from  1702,  when  an  English  admiral  brought  back 
fifty  tons  of  snuff  found  on  board  some  Spanish  ships  which  he  had  cap- 
tured in  Vigo  Bay. 

In  the  Spectator  for  August  8,  171 1,  a  mock  advertisement  is  inserted 
professing  to  teach  "  the  exercise  of  the  snuff-box  according  to  the  most 
fashionable  airs  and  motions,"  and  in  the  number  for  April  4, 1712,  Steele 
protests  against  "  an  impertinent  custom  the  fine  women  have  lately  fallen 
into  of  taking  snuff." 

22  dine:  the  usual  dinner  hour  in  Queen  Anne's  reign  was  about 
3  P.M.  Fashionable  people  dined  at  4,  or  later.  This  allowed  the  fash- 
ionable lady  who  rose  at  noon  time  to  do  a  little  shopping  and  perform 
"  the  long  labours  of  the  toilet." 

26  two   .   .    .  Knights:   one  of  these  was  the  baron,  see  1.  66. 

27  Ombre:  a  game  of  cards  invented  in  Spain.  It  takes  its  name  from 
the  Spanish  phrase  originally  used  by  the  player  who  declared  trumps: 
"  Yo  soy  I'hombre,"  i.e.  I  am  the  man.  It  could  be  played  by  three,  five, 
or  nine  players,  but  the  usual  number  was  three  as  here.  Each  of  these 
received  nine  cards,  and  one  of  them  named  the  trump  and  thus  became  the 
"  ombre,"  who  played  against  the  two  others.     If  either  of  the  ombre's 


94 


NOTES 


opponents  took  more  tricks  than  the  ombre,  it  was  "  codille  "  (1.  92). 
This  meant  that  the  opponent  took  the  stake  and  the  ombre  had  to 
replace  it  for  the  next  hand. 

A  peculiar  feature  of  ombre  is  the  rank,  or  value,  of  the  cards.  The 
three  best  cards  were  called  "  matadores,"  a  Spanish  word  meaning  "  kill- 
ers." The  first  of  these  matadores  was  "  Spadillio,"  the  ace  of  spades; 
the  third  was  "  Basto,"  the  ace  of  clubs.  The  second,  "Manillio," 
varied  according  to  the  suit.  If  a  black  suit  were  declared,  Manillio  was 
the  two  of  trumps;  if  a  red  suit,  Manillio  was  the  seven  of  trumps.  It  is 
worth  noting  also  that  the  red  aces  were  inferior  to  the  face  cards  of  their 
suits  except  when  a  red  suit  was  trump. 

A  brief  analysis  of  the  game  played  on  this  occasion  will  clear  up  the 
passage  and  leave  the  reader  free  to  admire  the  ingenuity  with  which  Pope 
has  described  the  contest  in  terms  of  epic  poetry. 

Belinda  declares  spades  trumps  and  so  becomes  the  "  ombre."  She 
leads  one  after  the  other  the  three  matadores;  and  takes  three  tricks.  She 
then  leads  the  next  highest  card,  the  king  of  spades,  and  wins  a  fourth 
trick.  Being  out  of  trumps  she  now  leads  the  king  of  clubs;  but  the 
baron,  who  has  actually  held  more  spades  than  Belinda,  trumps  it  with  the 
queen  of  spades.  All  the  trumps  are  now  exhausted  and  the  baron's  long 
suit  of  diamonds  is  established.  He  takes  the  sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth 
tricks  with  the  king,  queen,  and  knave  of  diamonds,  respectively.  Every- 
thing now  depends  on  the  last  trick,  since  Belinda  and  the  baron  each 
have  taken  four.  The  baron  leads  the  ace  of  hearts  and  Belinda  takes 
it  with  the  king,  thus  escaping  "  codilJe  "  and  winning  the  stake. 

30  the  sacred  nine:   the  nine  Muses. 

41    succint:    tucked  up. 

64  one  Plebeian  card:  one  of  Belinda's  opponents  is  now  out  of  trumps 
and  discards  a  low  card  on  her  lead. 

61  Pam:  a  term  applied  to  the  knave  of  clubs  which  was  always  the 
highest  card  in  Lu,  another  popular  game  of  that  day. 

74  the  globe:  the  jeweled  ball  which  forms  one  of  the  regalia  of  a 
monarch.  The  aspect  of  playing  cards  has  changed  not  a  little  since  Pope's 
day,  but  the  globe  is  still  to  be  seen  on  the  king  of  clubs. 

79  Clubs,  Diamonds,  Hearts:  these  are  the  losing  cards  played  by  Be- 
linda and  the  third  player  on  the  baron's  winning  diamonds. 

99  Pope's  old  enemy,  Dennis,  objected  to  the  impropriety  of  Belinda's 
filling  the  sky  with  exulting  shouts,  and  some  modern  critics  have  been 
foolish  enough  to  echo  bis  objection.    The  whole  scene  is  a  masterpiece 


I 


NOTES  95 

of  the  mock-heroic.  The  game  is  a  battle,  the  cards  are  warriors,  and 
Belinda's  exclamations  of  pleasure  at  winning  are  in  the  same  fashion 
magnified  into  the  cheers  of  a  victorious  army. 

100  long  canals:  the  canals  which  run  through  the  splendid  gardens 
of  Hampton  Court,  laid  out  by  William  III  in  the  Dutch  fashion. 

106  The  berries  crackle:  it  would  seem  from  this  phrase  that  cofifee  was 
at  that  time  roasted  as  well  as  ground  in  the  drawing-room.  In  a  letter 
written  shortly  after  the  date  of  this  poem  Pope  describes  Swift  as  roast- 
ing cofifee  "  with  his  own  hands  in  an  engine  made  for  that  purpose." 

Cofifee  had  been  introduced  into  England  about  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  In  1657  a  barber  who  had  opened  one  of  the  first  coffee- 
houses in  London  was  indicted  for  "  making  and  selling  a  sort  of  liquor 
called  coffee,  as  a  great  nuisance  and  prejudice  of  the  neighborhood." 
In  Pope's  time  there  were  nearly  three  thousand  cofifee-houses  in  London. 

The  mill:   the  coffee-mill. 

107  Altars  of  Japan:   japanned  stands  for  the  lamps. 

117-118  The  parenthesis  in  these  lines  contains  a  hit  at  the  would-be 
omniscient  politicians  who  haunted  the  coffee-houses  of  Queen  Anne's 
day,  and  who  professed  their  ability  to  see  through  all  problems  of  state 
with  their  eyes  half-shut.  Pope  jestingly  attributes  their  wisdom  to  the 
inspiring  power  of  cofifee. 

122  Scylla:  the  daughter  of  King  Nisus  in  Grecian  legends.  Nisus 
had  a  purple  hair  and  so  long  as  it  was  untouched  he  was  unconquerable. 
Scylla  fell  in  love  with  one  of  his  enemies  and  pulled  out  the  hair  while 
Nisus  slept.  For  this  crime  she  was  turned  into  a  bird.  The  story  is  told 
in  full  in  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  Bk.  VIII. 

127  Clarissa :  it  does  not  appear  that  Pope  had  any  individual  lady 
in  mind.  We  do  not  know,  at  least,  that  any  lady  instigated  or  aided 
Lord  Petre  to  cut  off  the  lock. 

144  An  earthly  Lover:  we  know  nothing  of  any  love  affair  of  Miss 
Fermor's.  Pope  mentions  the  "  earthly  lover  "  here  to  account  for  Ariel's 
desertion  of  Belinda,  for  he  could  only  protect  her  so  long  as  she  "rejected 
mankind  ";    compare  Canto  I,  11.  67-68. 

147  Forfex:    a  Latin  word  meaning  scissors. 

162  Pope  borrowed  this  idea  from  Milton,  who  represents  the  wound 
inflicted  on  Satan  by  the  Archangel  Michael  as  healing  immediately  — 

Th'  ethereal  substance  closed 

Not  long  divisible. 

—  Paradise  Lost,  VI,  330-331. 


96  NOTES 

165  Atalantis:  The  New  Atalantis,  a  four-volume  "  cornucopia  of 
scandal  "  involving  almost  every  public  character  of  the  day,  was 
published  by  a  Mrs.  Manley  in  1709.  It  v?as  very  vi^idely  read 
The  Spectator  found  it,  along  with  a  key  which  revealed  the  identities 
of  its  characters,  in  the  lady's  library  already  mentioned  {Spectator, 
No.  37). 

166  the  small  pillow:  a  richly  decorated  pillow  which  fashionable  ladies 
used  to  prop  them  up  in  bed  when  they  received  morring  visits  from 
gentlemen.  Addison  gives  an  account  of  such  a  visit  in  the  Spectator, 
No.  45. 

167  solemn  days:  days  of  marriage  or  mourning,  on  which  at  this 
time  formal  calls  were  paid. 

173  the  labour  of  the  gods:    the  walls  of  Troy  built  by  Apollo  and 
Neptune  for  King  Laomedon. 
178  unresisted:   irresistible. 

CANTO  IV 

8  Cynthia:  a  fanciful  name  for  any  fashionable  lady.  No  individual 
is  meant.  —  manteau:   a  loose  upper  garment  for  women. 

16  Spleen:  the  word  is  used  here  as  a  personiScation  of  melancholy, 
or  low  spirits.  It  was  not  an  uncommon  affectation  in  England  at  this 
time.  A  letter  to  the  Spectator,  No.  53,  calls  it  "  the  distemper  of  the  great 
and  the  polite." 

17  the  Gnome:  Umbriel,  who  in  accordance  with  his  nature  now  pro- 
ceeds to  stir  up  trouble.     Compare  Canto  I,  11.  63-64. 

20  The  bitter  east  wind  which  put  every  one  into  a  bad  hxmior  was 
supposed  to  be  one  of  the  main  causes  of  the  spleen. 

23  She:   the  goddess  of  the  spleen.    Compare  1.  79. 

24  Megrim:  headache. 
29  store:  a  large  supply. 

38  night-dress:  the  modern  dressing-gown.  The  line  means  that 
whenever  a  fashionable  beauty  bought  a  new  dressing-gown  she  pretended 
to  be  ill  in  order  to  show  her  new  possession  to  sympathetic  friends  who 
called  on  her. 

40  phantoms:  these  are  the  visions,  dreadful  or  delightful,  of  the  dis- 
ordered imagination  produced  by  spleen. 

43  snakes  on  rolling  spires:  like  the  serpent  which  Milton  describes 
in  Paradise  Lost,  IX,  501-502,  "erect  amidst  his  circling  spires." 


NOTES  97 

46  angels  in  machines:  angels  coining  to  help  their  votaries.  The 
word  "  machine  "  here  has  an  old-fashioned  technical  sense.  It  was  first 
used  to  describe  the  apparatus  by  which  a  god  was  let  down  upon  the  stage 
of  the  Greek  theater.  Since  a  god  was  only  introduced  at  a  critical  mo- 
ment to  help  the  distressed  hero,  the  phrase,  "  deus  ex  machina,"  came 
to  mean  a  god  who  rendered  aid.     Pope  transfers  it  here  to  angels. 

47  throngs:  Pope  now  describes  the  mad  fancies  of  people  so  affected 
by  spleen  as  to  imagine  themselves  transformed  to  inanimate  objects. 

51  pipkin:  a  little  jar.  Homer  (Iliad,  XVIII,  373-377)  tells  how  Vul- 
can had  made  twenty  wonderful  tripods  on  living  wheels  that  moved  from 
place  to  place  of  their  own  accord. 

52  Pope  in  a  note  to  this  poem  says  that  a  lady  of  his  time  actually 
imagined  herself  to  be  a  goose-pie. 

56  A  branch:  so  ^neas  bore  a  magic  branch  to  protect  him  when  he 
descended  to  the  infernal  regions  {yEneid,  VI,  136-143).  —  Spleenwort: 
a  sort  of  fern  which  was  once  supposed  to  be  a  remedy  against  the 
spleen. 

58  the  sex:   women. 

59  vapours:  a  form  of  spleen  to  which  women  were  supposed  to  be 
peculiarly  liable,  something  like  our  modern  hysteria.  It  seems  to  have 
taken  its  name  from  the  fogs  of  England  which  were  thought  to 
cause   it. 

65  a  nymph:  Belinda,  who  had  always  been  so  light-hearted  that  she 
had  never  been  a  victim  of  the  spleen. 

69  Citron-waters:  a  liqueur  made  by  distilling  brandy  with  the  rind  of 
citrons.     It  was  a  fashionable  drink  for  ladies  at  this  time. 

71  Made  men  suspicious  of  their  wives. 

82  Ulysses:  Homer  {Odyssey,  X,  1-25;  tells  how  .^olus,  the  god  of  the 
winds,  gave  Ulysses  a  wallet  of  oxhide  in  which  all  the  winds  that  might 
oppose  his  journey  homeward  were  closely  bound  up. 

89  Thalestris:  the  name  of  a  warlike  queen  of  the  Amazons.  Pope 
uses  it  here  for  a  friend  of  Belinda's,  who  excites  her  to  revenge  herself 
for  the  rape  of  her  lock.  It  is  said  that  this  friend  was  a  certain  Mrs. 
Morley. 

102  loads  of  lead:  curl  papers  used  to  be  fastened  with  strips  of  lead. 

105   Honour:   female  reputation. 

109  toast:  a  slang  term  in  Pope's  day  for  a  reigning  beauty  whose 
health  was  regularly  drunk  by  her  admirers.  Steele  (Taller,  No.  24)  says 
that  the  term  had  its  rise  from  an  accident  that  happened  at  Bath  in  the 


98  NOTES 

reign  of  Charles  II.  A  famous  beauty  was  bathing  there  in  public,  and 
one  of  her  admirers  filled  a  glass  with  the  water  in  which  she  stood  and 
drank  her  heahh.  "There  was  in  the  place,"  says  Steele  "  a  gay  fellow, 
half-fuddled,  who  offered  to  jump  in,  and  swore  though  he  liked  not  the 
liquor,  he  would  have  the  Toast.  He  was  opposed  in  his  resolution; 
yet  this  whim  gave  foundation  to  the  present  honor  which  is  done  to  the 
lady  we  mention  in  our  liquors,  who  has  ever  since  been  called  a  toast." 
To  understand  the  point  of  the  story  one  must  know  that  it  was  an  old 
custom  to  put  a  bit  of  toast  in  hot  drinks. 

In  this  line  in  the  poem  Thalestris  insinuates  that  if  BeHnda  sub- 
mits tamely  to  the  rape  of  the  lock,  her  position  as  a  toast  will  be 
forfeited. 

113-116  Thalestris  supposes  that  the  baron  will  have  the  lock  set  in  a. 
ring  under  a  bit  of  crystal.  Old-fashioned  hair-rings  of  this  kind  are  still 
to  be  seen. 

117  Hyde-park  Circus:  the  Ring  of  Canto  I,  1.  44.  Grass  was  not 
likely  to  grow  there  so  long  as  it  remained  the  fashionable  place  to  drive. 

118  in  the  sound  of  Bow:  within  hearing  of  the  bells  of  the  church  of 
St.  Mary  le  Bow  in  Cheapside.  So  far  back  as  Ben  Jonson's  time  (East- 
ward Ho,  I,  ii,  36)  it  was  the  mark  of  the  unfashionable  middle-class 
citizen  to  live  in  this  quarter.  A  "  wit "  in  Queen  Anne's  day  would  have 
scorned  to  lodge  there. 

121  Sir  Plume:  this  was  Sir  George  Brown,  brother  of  Mrs.  Morley 
(Thalestris).  He  was  not  unnaturally  offended  at  the  picture  drawn 
of  him  in  this  poem.  Pope  told  a  friend  many  years  later  that  "  nobody 
was  angry  but  Sir  George  Brown,  and  he  was  a  good  deal  so,  and  for  a  long 
time.  He  could  not  bear  that  Sir  Plume  should  talk  nothing  but 
nonsense." 

124  a  clouded  cane:  a  cane  of  polished  wood  with  cloudlike  mark- 
ings. In  the  Taller,  Mr.  BickerstafiF  sits  in  judgment  on  canes,  and  takes 
away  a  cane,  "  curiously  clouded,  with  a  transparent  amber  head,  and 
a  blue  ribband  to  hang  upon  his  wrist,"  from  a  young  gentleman  as 
a  piece  of  idle  foppery.  There  are  some  amusing  remarks  on  the 
"  conduct  "  of  canes  in  the  same  essay. 

133  The  baron's  oath  is  a  parody  of  the  oath  of  Achilles  {Iliad,  I,  234). 

142  The  breaking  of  the  bottle  of  sorrows,  etc.,  is  the  cause  of  Be- 
linda's change  of  mood  from  wrath  as  in  1.  93  to  tears,  143-144. 

155  the  gilt  Chariot:  the  painted  and  gilded  coach  in  which  ladies  took 
the  air  in  London. 


I 


NOTES  99 

156  Bohea:  tea,  the  name  comes  from  a  range  of  hills  in  China  where 
a  certain  kind  of  tea  was  grown. 

162  the  patch-box:  the  box  which  held  the  little  bits  of  black  sticking- 
plaster  with  which  ladies  used  to  adorn  their  faces.  According  to  Addi- 
son {^Spectator,  No.  8i),  ladies  even  went  so  far  in  this  fad  as  to  patch  on 
one  side  of  the  face  or  the  other,  according  to  their  politics. 

CANTO  V 

5  the  Trojan:  ^neas,  who  left  Carthage  in  spite  of  the  wrath  of  Dido 
and  the  entreaties  of  her  sister  Anna. 

7-36  Pope  inserted  these  lines  in  a  late  revision  in  171 7,  in  order,  as  he 
said,  to  open  more  clearly  the  moral  of  the  poem.  The  speech  of  Clarissa 
is  a  parody  of  a  famous  speech  by  Sarpedon  in  the  Iliad,  XII,  310-328. 

14  At  this  time  the  gentlemen  always  sat  in  the  side  boxes  of  the  theater; 
the  ladies  in  the  front  boxes. 

20  As  vaccination  had  not  yet  been  introduced,  small-pox  was  at 
this  time  a  terribly  dreaded  scourge. 

23  In  the  Spectator,  No.  23,  there  is  inserted  a  mock  advertisement 
professing  to  teach  the  whole  art  of  ogling,  the  church  ogle,  the  playhouse 
ogle,  a  flying  ogle  fit  for  the  ring,  etc. 

24  Painting  the  face  was  a  common  practice  of  the  belles  of  this  time. 
The  Spectator,  No.  41,  contains  a  bitter  attack  on  the  painted  ladies  whom 
it  calls  the  "  Picts." 

37  virago:    a  fierce,  masculine  woman,  here  used  for  Thalestris. 

45  In  the  Iliad  (Bk.  XX)  the  gods  are  represented  as  taking  sides 
for  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  and  fighting  among  themselves.  Pallas  op- 
poses Ares,  or  Mars;    and  Hermes,  Latona. 

48  Olympus:  the  hill  on  whose  summit  the  gods  were  supposed  to 
dwell,  often  used  for  heaven  itself. 

60  Neptune:    used  here  for  the  sea  over  which  Neptune  presided. 
53  a  sconce's  height:  the  top  of  an  ornamental  bracket  for  holding 

candles. 

61  Explain  the  metaphor  in  this  line. 

64  The  quotation  is  from  a  song  in  an  opera  called  Camilla. 

65  The  Maeander  is  a  river  in  Asia  Minor.  Ovid  (Heroides,  VII, 
1-2)  represents  the  swan  as  singing  his  death-song  on  its  banks. 

68  Chloe:  a  fanciful  name.     No  real  person  is  meant. 

71  The  figure  of  Jove  weighing  the  issue  of  a  battle  in  his  scales  is 


lOO  NOTES 

found  in  the  Iliad,  VIII,  69-73.  Milton  imitated  it  in  Paradise  Lost, 
IX,  996-1004.  When  the  men's  wits  mounted  it  showed  that  they  were 
lighter,  less  important,  than  the  lady's  hair,  and  so  were  destined  to  lose 
the  battle. 

89-96  This  pedigree  of  Belinda's  bodkin  is  a  parody  of  Homer's 
account  of  Agamemnon's  scepter  {Iliad,  II,  100-108). 

105-106  In  Shakespeare's  play  Othello  fiercely  demands  to  see  a  hand- 
kerchief which  he  has  given  his  wife,  and  takes  her  inability  to  show  it  to 
him  as  a  proof  of  her  infidelity. 

113  the  lunar  sphere :  it  was  an  old  superstition  that  everything  lost 
on  earth  went  to  the  moon.  An  Italian  poet,  Ariosto,  uses  this  notion  in  a 
poem  with  which  Pope  was  familiar  {Orlando  Furioso,  Canto  XXXIV), 
and  from  which  he  borrowed  some  of  his  ideas  for  the  cave  of  Spleen. 

122  Why  does  Pope  include  "tomes  of  casuistry"  in  this  collection? 

125  There  was  a  legend  that  Romulus  never  died,  but  had  been  caught 
up  to  the  skies  in  a  storm.  Proculus,  a  Roman  senator,  said  that 
Romulus  had  descended  from  heaven  and  spoken  to  him  and  then 
ascended  again  (Livy,  I,  16). 

129  Berenice's  Locks:  Berenice  was  an  Egyptian  queen  who  dedicated 
a  lock  of  hair  for  her  husband's  safe  return  from  war.  It  was  said  after- 
ward to  have  become  a  constellation,  and  a  Greek  poet  wrote  some  verses 
on  the  marvel. 

132  Why  were  the  Sylphs  pleased? 

133  the  Mall:  the  upper  side  of  St.  James's  park  in  London,  a  favor- 
ite place  at  this  time  for  promenades. 

136  Rosamonda's  lake:  a  pond  near  one  of  the  gates  of  St.  James's 
park,  a  favorite  rendezvous  for  lovers. 

137  Partridge:  an  almanac  maker  of  Pope's  day  who  was  given  to 
prophesying  future  events.  Shortly  before  this  poem  was  written  Swift 
had  issued  a  mock  almanac  foretelling  that  Partridge  would  die  on  a  cer- 
tain day.  When  that  day  came  Swift  got  out  a  pamphlet  giving  a  full 
account  of  Partridge's  death.  In  spite  of  the  poor  man's  protests,  Swift 
and  his  friends  kept  on  insisting  that  he  was  dead.  He  was  still  living, 
however,  when  Pope  wrote  this  poem.  Why  does  Pope  call  him  "  th' 
egregious  wizard  "  ? 

138  Galileo's  eyes:  the  telescope,  first  used  by  the  Italian  astronomer 
Galileo. 

140  Louis  XIV  of  France,  the  great  enemy  of  England  at  this  time 
•—Rome:  here  used  to  denote  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 


NOTES  loi 

142  the  shining  sphere:  an  allusion  to  the  old  notion  that  all  the  stars 
were  set  in  one  sphere  in  the  sky.  Belinda's  lost  lock,  now  a  star,  is  said 
to  add  a  new  light  to  this  sphere. 

147  What  are  the  "  fair  suns  "  ? 


AN    ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM 
INTRODUCTION 

The  Essay  on  Criticism  was  the  first  really  important  work  that  Pope 
gave  to  the  world.  He  had  been  composing  verses  from  early  boyhood, 
and  had  actually  published  a  set  of  Pastorals  which  had  attracted  some 
attention.  He  was  already  known  to  the  Uterary  set  of  London  coffee- 
houses as  a  young  man  of  keen  wit  and  high  promise,  but  to  the  reading 
pubHc  at  large  he  was  as  yet  an  unknown  quantity.  With  the  appearance 
of  the  Essay,  Pope  not  only  sprang  at  once  into  the  full  light  of  publicity, 
but  seized  almost  undisputed  that  position  as  the  first  of  living  English 
poets  which  he  was  to  retain  unchallenged  till  his  death.  Even  after  his 
death  down  to  the  Romantic  revival,  in  fact,  Pope's  supremacy  was 
an  article  of  critical  faith,  and  this  supremacy  was  in  no  small  measure 
founded  upon  the  acknowledged  merits  of  the  Essay  on  Criticism.  John- 
son, the  last  great  representative  of  Pope's  own  school  of  thought  in 
matters  literary,  held  that  the  poet  had  never  excelled  this  early  work  and 
gave  it  as  his  deliberate  opinion  that  if  Pope  had  written  nothing  else, 
the  Essay  would  have  placed  him  among  the  first  poets  and  the  first 
critics.  The  Essay  on  Criticism  is  hardly  an  epoch-making  poem,  but  it 
certainly  "made"  Ale.xander  Pope. 

The  poem  was  pu Wished  anonymously  in  the  spring  of  171 1,  when 
Pope  was  twenty-three  years  old.  There  has  been  considerable  dispute 
as  to  the  date  of  its  composition;  but  the  facts  seem  to  be  that  it  was  be- 
gun in  1707  and  finished  in  1709  when  Pope  had  it  printed,  not  for  pub- 
lication, but  for  purposes  of  further  correction.  As  it  stands,  therefore, 
it  represents  a  work  planned  at  the  close  of  Pope's  precocious  youth, 
and  executed  and  polished  in  the  first  flush  of  his  manhood.  And  it  is 
quite  fair  to  say  that  considering  the  age  of  its  author  the  Essay  on  Criti- 
cism is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  in  English. 

Not  that  there  is  anything  particularly  original  about  the  Essay.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  one  of  the  most  conventional  of  all  Pope's  works.     It 


I02  NOTES 

has  nothing  of  the  lively  fancy  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  little  or  nothing 
of  the  personal  note  which  stamps  the  later  satires  and  epistles  as  so 
peculiarly  Pope's  own.  Apart  from  its  brilliant  epigrammatic  expression 
the  Essay  on  Criticism  might  have  been  written  by  almost  any  man  of 
letters  in  Queen  Anne's  day  who  took  the  trouble  to  think  a  little  about 
the  laws  of  literature,  and  who  thought  about  those  laws  strictly  in  accord- 
ance with  the  accepted  conventions  of  his  time.  Pope  is  not  in  the 
least  to  be  blamed  for  this  lack  of  originality.  Profound  original  criticism 
is  perhaps  the  ver\'  last  thing  to  be  expected  of  a  brilliant  boy,  and  Pope 
was  little  more  when  he  planned  this  work.  But  boy  as  he  was,  he  had 
already  accomplished  an  immense  amount  of  desultory  reading,  not  only 
in  literature  proper,  but  in  literary  criticism  as  well.  He  told  Spence  in 
later  years  that  in  his  youth  he  had  gone  through  all  the  best  critics, 
naming  especially  Quintilian,  Rapin,  and  Bossu.  A  mere  cursory  read- 
ing of  the  Essay  shows  that  he  had  also  studied  Horace,  Vida,  and 
Boileau.  Before  he  began  to  write  he  had,  so  he  told  Spence,  "  digested 
all  the  matter  of  the  poem  into  prose."  In  other  words,  then,  the  Essay 
on  Criticism  is  at  once  the  result  of  Pope's  early  studies,  the  embodiment 
of  the  received  literary  doctrines  of  his  age,  and,  as  a  consecutive  study  of 
his  poems  shows,  the  programme  in  accordance  with  which,  making  due 
allowance  for  certain  exceptions  and  inconsistencies,  he  evolved  the  main 
body  of  his  work. 

It  would,  however,  be  a  mistake  to  treat,  as  did  Pope's  first  editor, 
the  Essay  on  Criticism  as  a  methodical,  elaborate,  and  systematic  treatise. 
Pope,  indeed,  was  flattered  to  have  a  scholar  of  such  recognized  authority 
as  Warburton  to  interpret  his  works,  and  permitted  him  to  print  a  com- 
mentary upon  the  Essay,  which  is  quite  as  long  and  infinitely  duller  than 
the  original.  But  the  true  nature  of  the  poem  is  indicated  by  its  title. 
It  is  not  an  Art  of  Poetry  such  as  Boileau  composed,  but  an  Essay.  And 
by  the  word  "essay,"  Pope  meant  exactly  what  Bacon  did,  —  a  tentative 
sketch,  a  series  of  detached  thoughts  upon  a  subject,  not  a  complete  study 
or  a  methodical  treatise.  All  that  we  know  of  Pope's  method  of  study, 
habit  of  thought,  and  practice  of  composition  goes  to  support  this  opinion. 
He  read  widely  but  desultorily ;  thought  swiftly  and  brilliantly,  but  illogi- 
cally  and  inconsistently;  and  composed  in  minute  sections,  on  the  backs 
of  letters  and  scraps  of  waste  paper,  fragments  which  he  afterward 
united,  rather  than  blended,  to  make  a  complete  poem,  a  mosaic,  rather 
than  a  picture. 

Yet    the    Essay   is   by    no   means    the   "  collection    of   independent 


NOTES  103 

maxims  tied  together  by  the  printer,  but  having  no  natural  order,'' 
which  De  Quincey  pronounced  it  to  be.  It  falls  naturally  into  three  parts. 
The  first  deals  with  the  rules  derived  by  classic  critics  from  the  practice 
of  great  poets,  and  ever  since  of  binding  force  both  in  the  composition  and 
in  the  criticism  of  poetry.  The  second  analyzes  with  admirable  sagacity 
the  causes  of  faulty  criticism  as  pride,  imperfect  learning,  prejudice,  and 
so  on.  The  third  part  discusses  the  qualities  which  a  true  critic  should 
possess,  good  taste,  learning,  modesty,  frankness,  and  tact,  and  concludes 
with  a  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of  criticism  from  Aristotle  to  Walsh. 
This  is  the  general  outline  of  the  poem,  sufficient,  I  think,  to  show  that  it 
is  not  a  mere  bundle  of  poetic  formula.  But  within  these  broad  limits 
the  thought  of  the  poem  wanders  freely,  and  is  quite  rambling,  incon- 
sistent, and  illogical  enough  to  show  that  Pope  is  not  formulating  an  exact 
and  definitely  determined  system  of  thought. 

Such  indeed  was,  I  fancy,  hardly  his  purpose.  It  was  rather  to  give 
clear,  vivid,  and  convincing  expression  to  certain  ideas  which  were  at  that 
time  generally  accepted  as  orthodox  in  the  realm  of  literary  criticism. 
No  better  expression  of  these  ideas  can  be  found  anywhere  than  in  the 
Essay  itself,  but  a  brief  statement  in  simple  prose  of  some  of  the  most 
important  may  serve  as  a  guide  to  the  young  student  of  the  essay. 

In  the  first  place,  the  ultimate  source  alike  of  poetry  and  criticism  is  a 
certain  intuitive  faculty,  common  to  all  men,  though  more  highly  developed 
in  some  than  others,  called  Reason,  or,  sometimes,  Good  Sense.  The  first 
rule  for  the  budding  poet  or  critic  is  "  Follow  Nature."  This,  by  the  way, 
sounds  rather  modern,  and  might  be  accepted  by  any  romantic  poet. 
But  by  "  Nature  "  was  meant  not  at  all  the  natural  impulses  of  the  indi- 
vidual, but  those  rules  founded  upon  the  natural  and  common  reason  of 
mankind  which  the  ancient  critics  had  extracted  and  codified  from  the 
practice  of  the  ancient  poets.  Pope  says  explicitly  "  to  follow  nature  is 
to  follow  them;"  and  he  praises  Virgil  for  turning  aside  from  his  own 
original  conceptions  to  imitate  Homer,  for  — 

Nature  and  Homer  were,  he  found,  the  same. 

Certain  exceptions  to  these  rules  were,  indeed,  allowable,  —  severer  critics 
than  Pope,  by  the  way,  absolutely  denied  this,  —  but  only  to  the  ancient 
poets.  The  moderns  must  not  dare  to  make  use  of  them,  or  at  the  very 
best  moderns  must  only  venture  upon  such  exceptions  to  the  rules  as  classic 
precedents  would  justify.  Inasmuch  as  all  these  rules  were  discovered 
and  illustrated  in  ancient  times,  it  followed  logically  that  the  great  breach 


104  NOTES 

with  antiquity,  which  is  called  the  Middle  Ages,  was  a  period  of  hopeless 
and  unredeemed  barbarism,  incapable  of  bringing  forth  any  good  thing. 
The  light  of  literature  began  to  dawn  again  with  the  revival  of  learning  at 
the  Renaissance,  but  the  great  poets  of  the  Renaissance,  Spenser  and 
Shakespeare,  for  example,  were  "  irregular,"  that  is,  they  trusted  too  much 
to  their  individual  powers  and  did  not  accept  with  sufficient  humility 
the  orthodox  rules  of  poetry.  This  dogma,  by  the  way,  is  hardly  touched 
upon  in  the  Essay,  but  is  elaborated  with  great  emphasis  in  Pope's  later 
utterance  on  the  principles  of  literature,  the  well-known  Epistle  to  Augus- 
tus. Finally  with  the  establishment  of  the  reign  of  Reason  in  France 
under  Louis  XIV,  and  in  England  a  little  later,  the  full  day  had  come, 
and  literary  sins  of  omission  and  commission  that  might  be  winked  at  in 
such  an  untutored  genius  as  Shakespeare  were  now  unpardonable.  This 
last  dogma  explains  the  fact  that  in  the  brief  sketch  of  the  history  of 
criticism  which  concludes  the  Essay,  Pope  does  not  condescend  to  name 
an  English  poet  or  critic  prior  to  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 

It  would  be  beside  the  purpose  to  discuss  these  ideas  to-day  or  to  at  - 
tempt  an  elaborate  refutation  of  their  claims  to  acceptance.  Time  has 
done  its  work  upon  them,  and  the  literary  creed  of  the  wits  of  Queen  Anne's 
day  is  as  antiquated  as  their  periwigs  and  knee-breeches.  Except  for 
purposes  of  historical  investigation  it  is  quite  absurd  to  take  the  Essay  on 
Criticism  seriously. 

And  yet  it  has  even  for  us  of  to-day  a  real  value.  Our  age  absolutely 
lacks  a  standard  of  literary  criticism ;  and  of  all  standards  the  one  least 
likely  to  be  accepted  is  that  of  Pope  and  his  fellow-believers.  Individual 
taste  reigns  supreme  in  this  democratic  age,  and  one  man's  judgment  is  as 
good  as,  perhaps  a  little  better  than,  another's.  But  even  this  democratic 
and  individual  age  may  profit  by  turning  back  for  a  time  to  consider  some 
of  the  general  truths,  as  valid  to-day  as  ever,  to  which  Pope  gave  such  in- 
imitable expression,  or  to  study  the  outlines  of  that  noble  picture  of  the 
true  critic  which  St.  Beuve  declared  every  professed  critic  should  frame 
and  hang  up  in  his  study.  An  age  which  seems  at  times  upon  the  point  of 
throwing  classical  studies  overboard  as  useless  lumber  might  do  far  worse 
than  listen  to  the  eloquent  tribute  which  the  poet  pays  to  the  great  writers 
of  antiquity.  And  finally  nothing  could  be  more  salutary  for  an  age  in 
which  literature  itself  has  caught  something  of  the  taint  of  the  prevailing 
commercialism  than  to  bathe  itself  again  in  that  spirit  of  sincere  and 
disinterested  love  of  letters  which  breathes  throughout  the  Essay  and 
which,  in  spite  of  all  his  errors,  and  jealousies,  and  petty  vices,  was  the 
master-passion  of  Alexander  Pope. 


NOTES 


loS 


6  censure:  the  word  has  here  its  original  meaning  of  "  judge," 
not  its  modern  "  judge  severely  "  or  "  blame." 

8  Because  each  foolish  poem  provokes  a  host  of  foolish  commentators 
and  critics. 

16-16  This  assertion  that  only  a  good  writer  can  be  a  fair  critic  is  not 
to  be  accepted  without  reservation. 

17  The  word  "  wit  "  has  a  number  of  different  meanings  in  this  poem, 
and  the  student  should  be  careful  to  discriminate  between  them.  It 
means  i)  mind,  intellect,  1.  6i ;  2)  learning,  culture,  1.  727;  3)  imagina- 
tion, genius,  1.  82;  4)  the  power  to  discover  amusing  analogies,  or  the 
apt  expression  of  such  an  analogy,  11.  449,  297 ;  5)  a  man  possessed  of 
wit  in  its  various  significations,  1.  45 ;  this  last  form  usually  occurs  in  the 
plural,  11.  104,  539. 

26  the  maze  of  schools :  the  labyrinth  of  conflicting  systems  of  thought, 
especially  of  criticism. 

27  coxcombs  .  .  .  fools:  what  is  the  difference  in  meaning  between 
these  words  in  this  passage? 

30-31  In  this  couplet  Pope  hits  off  the  spiteful  envy  of  conceited  critics 
toward  successful  writers.  If  the  critic  can  write  himself,  he  hates  the 
author  as  a  rival;  if  he  cannot,  he  entertains  against  him  the  deep  grudge 
an  incapable  man  so  often  cherishes  toward  an  effective  worker. 

34  Maevius:  a  poetaster  whose  name  has  been  handed  down  by 
Virgil  and  Horace.  His  name,  like  that  of  his  associate,  Bavius,  has 
become  a  by-word  for  a  wretched  scribbler.  —  Apollo :  here  thought  of  as 
the  god  of  poetry.  The  true  poet  was  inspired  by  Apollo;  but  a  poetaster 
like  Maevius  wrote  vrithout  inspiration,  as  it  were,  in  spite  of  the  god. 

40-43  Pope  here  compares  "  half -learned  "  critics  to  the  animals  which 
old  writers  reported  were  bred  from  the  Nile  mud.  In  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, for  example,  Lepidus  says,  "  Your  serpent  of  Egypt  is  bred  now 
of  your  mud  by  the  operation  of  your  sun;  so  is  your  crocodile."  Pope 
thinks  of  these  animals  as  in  the  unformed  stage,  part  "  kindled  into  life, 
part  a  lump  of  mud."  So  these  critics  are  unfinished  things  for  which  no 
proper  name  can  be  found.  "  Equivocal  generation "  is  the  old  term 
used  to  denote  spontaneous  generation  of  this  sort.  Pope  applies  it  here 
to  critics  without  proper  training  who  spring  spontaneously  from  the 
mire  of  ignorance. 

44  tell:  count. 

46  The  idea  is  that  a  vain  wit's  tongue  could  out-talk  a  hundred  ordi- 
nary men's. 


io6  NOTES 

63  pretending  wit:   presuming,  or  ambitious  mind. 
66-68  memory .   .   .  understanding    imagination.     This    is    the    old 
threefold  division  of  the  human  mind.     Pope  means  that  where  one  of 
these  faculties  is  above  the  average  in  any  individual,  another  of  them  is 
sure  to  fall  below.     Is  this  always  the  case? 

62  peculiar  arts:   special  branches  of  knowledge. 
73  In  what  sense  can  nature  be  called  the  source,  the  end,  and  the 
test  of  art  ? 

76  th'  informing  soul:  the  soul  which  not  only  dwells  in,  but  animates 
and  molds  the  body. 

80-81   What  two  meanings  are  attached  to  "  wit  "  in  this  couplet? 
84  'Tis  more:   it  is  more  important.  —  the  Muse's  steed:  Pegasus,  the 
winged  horse  of  Greek  mythology,  was  supposed  to  be  the  horse  of  the 
Muses  and  came  to  be  considered  a  symbol  of  poetic  genius. 
86  gen'rous:    high-bred. 

88  What  is  the  difference  between  "  discovered  "  and  "  devised  "  ? 
94  Parnassus'  top:    the  Muses  were  supposed  to  dwell  on  the  top  of 
Parnassus,  a  mountain  in  Greece.     Great  poets  are  here  thought  of  as 
having  climbed  the  mountain  to  dwell  with  the  Muses. 
96  What  is  (cf.  text)  "  the  immortal  prize  "  ? 

99  She,  i.e.  learned  Greece,  especially  Greek  criticism,  which  obtained 
the  rules  of  poetry  from  the  practice  of  great  poets,  and,  as  it  were, 
systematized  their  inspiration. 

104  following  wits:   later  scholars. 

105  What  is  meant  by  "  the  mistress  "  and  "  the  maid  "  in  this  line? 
109  Doctor's  bills:   prescriptions. 

112  These  are  the  prosy  commentators  on  great  poets,  whose  dreary 
notes  often  disgust  readers  with  the  original. 
120  fable:   plot. 
123  What  is  the  difference  between  "  cavil  "  and  "  criticise  "  ? 

129  the  Mantuan  Muse:  the  poetry  of  Virgil,  which  Pope  thinks 
the  best  commentary  on  Homer.  In  what  sense  is  this  to  be  under- 
stood ? 

130  Maro:  Virgil,  whose  full  name  was  Publius  Vergilius  Maro.  Pope 
here  praises  Virgil's  well-known  imitation  of  Homer.  Since  "  nature  and 
Homer  were  the  same,"  a  young  poet  like  Virgil  could  do  nothing  better 
than  copy  Homer. 

138  the  Stagirite:  Aristotle,  a  native  of  Stagyra,  was  the  first  and  one 
pf  the  greatest  of  literary  critics.     His  "  rules  "  were  drawn  from  the  prac- 


NOTES  107 

dee  of  great  poets,  and  so,  according  to  Pope,  to  imitate  Homer  was  to 
obey  the  "  ancient  rules." 

141  There  are  some  beauties  in  poetry  which  cannot  be  explained  by 
criticism. 

142  happiness:  used  here  to  express  the  peculiar  charm  of  spontane- 
ous poetic  expression  as  contrasted  with  "  care,"  i.e.  the  art  of  revising 
and  improving,  which  can  be  taught. 

152  vulgar  bounds:    the  limitations  imposed  upon  ordinary  writers. 
157  out  of  .   .   .   rise:   surpass  the  ordinary  scenes  of  nature. 

159  Great  wits:   poets  of  real  genius. 

160  faults:  here  used  in  the  sense  of  irregularities,  exceptions  to  the 
rules  of  poetry.  When  these  are  justified  by  the  poet's  genius,  true  critics 
do  not  presume  to  correct  them.  In  many  editions  this  couplet  comes 
after  1.  151.  This  was  Pope's  first  arrangement,  but  he  later  shifted  it 
to  its  present  position. 

162  As  Kings:  the  Stuart  kings  claimed  the  right  to  "  dispense  with 
laws,"  that  is,  to  set  them  aside  in  special  instances.  In  1686  eleven  out  of 
twelve  English  judges  decided  in  a  test  case  that  "  it  is  a  privilege  insepa- 
rably connected  with  the  sovereignty  of  the  king  to  dispense  with  penal 
laws,  and  that  according  to  his  own  judgment."  The  English  people  very 
naturally  felt  that  such  a  privilege  opened  the  door  to  absolute  monarchy, 
and  after  the  fall  of  James  II,  ParHament  declared  in  1689  that  "  the 
pretended  power  of  suspending  of  laws  .  .  .  without  the  consent  of 
Parliament,  is  illegal." 

164  its  End:  the  purpose  of  every  law  of  poetry,  namely,  to  please  the 
reader.  This  purpose  must  not  be  "  transgressed,"  i.e.  forgotten  by  those 
who  wish  to  make  exceptions  to  these  laws. 

166  their  precedent:    the  example  of  classic  poets. 

179  stratagems  .  .  .  error :  things  in  the  classic  poets  which  to 
carping  critics  seem  faults  are  often  clever  devices  to  make  a  deeper 
impression  on  the  reader. 

180  Homer  nods:  Horace  in  his  Art  of  Poetry  used  this  figure  to 
imply  that  even  the  greatest  poet  sometimes  made  mistakes.  Pope 
very  neatly  suggests  that  it  may  be  the  critic  rather  than  the  poet  who  is 
asleep. 

181  each  ancient  Altar:  used  here  to  denote  the  works  of  the  great 
classic  writers.  The  whole  passage  down  to  1.  200  is  a  noble  outburst 
of  enthusiasm  for  the  poets  whom  Pope  had  read  so  eagerly  in  early 
youth. 


io8  NOTES 

186  consenting  Paeans:   unanimous  hymns  of  praise. 

194  must  ,  .  .  found:  are  not  destined  to  be  discovered  till  some 
future  time. 

196  Who  is  "  the  last,  the  meanest  of  your  sons  "  ? 

203  bias:  mental  bent,  or  inclination. 

208  This  line  is  based  upon  physiological  theories  which  are  now 
obsolete.  According  to  these  wind  or  air  supplied  the  lack  of  blood  or 
of  animal  spirits  in  imperfectly  constituted  bodies.  To  such  bodies  Pope 
compares  those  ill-regulated  minds  where  a  deficiency  of  learning  and 
natural  ability  is  supplied  by  self-conceit. 

216  The  Pierian  spring:  the  spring  of  the  Muses,  who  were  called 
Pierides  in  Greek  mythology.  It  is  used  here  as  a  symbol  for  learning, 
particularly  for  the  study  of  literature. 

222  the  lengths  behind:  the  great  spaces  of  learning  that  lie  behind 
the  first  objects  of  our  study. 

225-232  This  fine  simile  is  one  of  the  best  expressions  in  English 
verse  of  the  modesty  of  the  true  scholar,  due  to  his  realization  of  the 
boundless  extent  of  knowledge.  It  was  such  a  feeling  that  led  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  to  say  after  all  his  wonderful  discoveries,  "  I  do  not  know  what 
I  may  appear  to  the  world,  but  to  myself  I  seem  to  have  been  only  like 
a  boy  playing  on  the  seashore  and  diverting  myself  in  now  and  then 
finding  a  smoother  pebble  or  a  prettier  shell  than  ordinary  whilst  the 
great  ocean  of  truth  lay  all  the  time  undiscovered  before  me." 

244  peculiar  parts:    individual  parts. 

248  ev'n  thine,  O  Rome:  there  are  so  many  splendid  churches  in 
Rome  that  an  inhabitant  of  this  city  would  be  less  inclined  than  a  stranger 
to  wonder  at  the  perfect  proportions  of  any  of  them.  But  there  are  two, 
at  least,  the  Pantheon  and  St.  Peter's,  which  might  justly  evoke  the 
admiration  even  of  a  Roman.  It  was  probably  of  one  of  these  that 
Pope  was  thinking. 

265  What  is  the  difference  between  "  principles  "  and  "  notions  " 
in  this  line? 

265  La  Mancha's  Knight:  Don  Quixote.  The  anecdote  that  follows 
is  not  taken  from  Cervantes'  novel,  but  from  a  continuation  of  it  by  an 
author  calUng  himself  Avellanada.  The  story  is  that  Don  Quixote 
once  fell  in  with  a  scholar  who  had  written  a  play  about  a  persecuted 
queen  of  Bohemia.  Her  innocence  in  the  original  story  was  established 
by  a  combat  in  the  lists,  but  this  the  poet  proposed  to  omit  as  contrary 
to  the  rules  of  Aristotle.    The  Don,  although  professing  great  respect  for 


NOTES  109 

Aristotle,  insisted  that  the  combat  was  the  best  part  of  the  story  and  must 
be  acted,  even  if  a  special  theater  had  to  be  built  for  the  purpose,  or  the 
play  given  in  the  open  fields.  Pope  quotes  this  anecdote  to  show  how 
some  critics  in  spite  of  their  professed  acceptance  of  general  rules  are  so 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  a  minor  point  as  to  judge  a  whole  work  of  art 
from  one  standpoint  only. 

270  Dennis:  John  Dennis,  a  playwright  and  critic  of  Pope's  time. 
Pope  and  he  were  engaged  in  frequent  quarrels,  but  this  first  reference 
to  him  in  Pope's  works  is  distinctly  complimentary.  The  line  probably 
refers  to  some  remarks  by  Dennis  on  the  Grecian  stage  in  his  Impartial 
Critic,  a  pamphlet  published  in  1693. 

273  nice:  discriminating;  in  1.  286  the  meaning  is  "over-scrupulous," 
"  finicky." 

276  unities:  according  to  the  laws  of  dramatic  composition  gener- 
ally accepted  in  Pope's  day,  a  play  must  observe  the  unities  of  subject, 
place,  and  time.  That  is,  it  must  have  one  main  theme,  not  a  number  of 
diverse  stories,  for  its  plot;  all  the  scenes  must  be  laid  in  one  place,  or  as 
nearly  so  as  possible;  and  the  action  must  be  begun  and  finished  within 
the  space  of  twenty-four  hours. 

286  Curious:    fastidious,  over-particular. 

288  by  a  love  to  parts:  by  too  diligent  attention  to  particular  parts 
of  a  work  of  art,  which  hinders  them  from  forming  a  true  judgment  of 
the  work  as  a  whole. 

289  Conceit:  an  uncommon  or  fantastic  expression  of  thought.  "Con- 
ceits "  had  been  much  sought  after  by  the  poets  who  wrote  in  the  first 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

297  True  Wit:  here  opposed  to  the  "  conceit "  of  which  Pope  has  been 
speaking.     It  is  defined  as  a  natural  idea  expressed  in  fit  words. 

299  whose  truth  .  .  .  find:  of  whose  truth  we  find  ourselves  at  once 
convinced. 

308  take  upon  content:   take  for  granted. 

311-317  Show  how  Pope  uses  the  simile  of  the  "  prismatic  glass  " 
to  distinguish  between  "  false  eloquence  "  and  "  true  expression." 

319  decent:    becoming. 

328  Fungoso:  a  character  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  out  of  his 
Humour.  He  is  the  son  of  a  miserly  farmer,  and  tries  hard,  though  all 
in  vain,  to  imitate  the  dress  and  manners  of  a  fine  gentleman. 

329  These  sparks:    these  would-be  dandies. 
337  Numbers:    rhythm,  meter. 


Tio  NOTES 

341  haunt  Parnassus:  read  poetry.  —  ear:  note  that  in  Pope's  day 
this  word  rhymed  with  "  repair  "  and  "  there.'' 

344  These:  critics  who  care  for  the  meter  only  in  poetry  insist  on  the 
proper  number  of  syllables  in  a  line,  no  matter  what  sort  of  sound  or  sense 
results.  For  instance,  they  do  not  object  to  a  series  of  "  open  vowels," 
i.e.  hiatuses  caused  by  the  juxtaposition  of  such  words  as  "  tho  "  and 
"  oft,"  "  the  "  and  "  ear."  Line  345  is  composed  especially  to  show 
how  feeble  a  rhythm  results  from  such  a  succession  of  "  open  vowels." 
They  do  not  object  to  bolstering  up  a  line  with  "  expletives,"  such  as 
"  do  "  in  1.  346,  nor  to  using  ten  "  low  words,"  i.e.  short,  monosyllabic 
words  to  make  up  a  line. 

347  With  this  line  Pope  passes  unconsciously  from  speaking  of  bad 
critics  to  denouncing  some  of  the  errors  of  bad  poets,  who  keep  on  using 
hackneyed  phrases  and  worn-out  metrical  devices. 

356  Alexandrine:  a  line  of  six  iambic  feet,  such  as  1.  357,  written 
especially  to  illustrate  this  form.  Why  does  Pope  use  the  adjective 
"  needless  "  here? 

361  Denham's  strength  .  .  .  Waller's  sweetness:  Waller  and  Den- 
ham  were  poets  of  the  century  before  Pope;  they  are  almost  forgotten 
to-day,  but  were  extravagantly  admired  in  his  time.  Waller  began 
and  Denham  continued  the  fashion  of  writing  in  "  closed "  heroic 
couplets,  i.e.  in  verses  where  the  sense  is  for  the  most  part  contained 
within  one  couplet  and  does  not  run  over  into  the  next  as  had  been 
the  fashion  in  earlier  verse.  Dryden  said  that  "  the  excellence  and 
dignity  of  rhyme  were  never  fully  known  till  Mr.  Waller  taught  it," 
and  the  same  critic  spoke  of  Denham's  poetry  as  "  majestic  and 
correct." 

370  Ajax:  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Iliad.  He  is  represented  more 
than  once  as  hurling  huge  stones  at  his  enemies.  Note  that  Pope  has 
endeavored  in  this  and  the  following  line  to  convey  the  sense  of  effort 
and  struggle.  What  means  does  he  employ?  Do  you  think  he  suc- 
ceeds ? 

372  Camilla:  a  heroine  who  appears  in  the  latter  part  of  the  Mneid 
fighting  against  the  Trojan  invaders  of  Italy.  Virgil  says  that  she 
was  so  swift  of  foot  that  she  might  have  run  over  a  field  of  wheat  without 
breaking  the  stalks,  or  across  the  sea  without  wetting  her  feet.  Pope 
attempts  in  1.  373  to  reproduce  in  the  sound  and  movement  of  his  verse 
the  sense  of  swift  flight. 

374  Timotheus:  a  Greek  poet  and  sinser  who  was  said  to  have  played 


NOTES  III 

and  sung  before  Alexander  the  Great.  The  reference  in  this  passage 
is  to  Dryden's  famous  poem,  Alexander' s  Feast. 

376  the  son  of  Libyan  Jove:  Alexander  the  Great,  who  boasted  that 
he  was  the  son  of  Jupiter.  The  famous  oracle  of  Jupiter  Ammon  situ- 
ated in  the  Libyan  desert  was  visited  by  Alexander,  who  was  said  to 
have  learned  there  the  secret  of  his  parentage. 

383  Dryden:  this  fine  compliment  is  paid  to  a  poet  whom  Pope  was 
proud  to  acknowledge  as  his  master.  "  I  learned  versification  wholly 
from  Dryden's  works,"  he  once  said.  Pope's  admiration  for  Dryden 
dated  from  early  youth,  and  while  still  a  boy  he  induced  a  friend  to  take 
him  to  see  the  old  poet  in  his  favorite  coffee-house. 

391  admire :  not  used  in  our  modern  sense,  but  in  its  original  meaning, 
"  to  wonder  at."  According  to  Pope,  it  is  only  fools  who  are  lost  in 
wonder  at  the  beauties  of  a  poem;  wise  men  "approve,"  i.e.  test  and 
pronounce  them  good. 

396-397  Pope  acknowledged  that  in  these  lines  he  was  alluding  to 
the  uncharitable  belief  of  his  fellow-Catholics  that  all  outside  the  fold  of 
the  Catholic  church  were  sure  to  be  damned. 

400  sublimes:  purifies. 

404  each:  each  age. 

415  joins  with  Quality:  takes  sides  with  "the  quality,"  i.e.  people  of 
rank. 

429  Are  so  clever  that  they  refuse  to  accept  the  common  and  true 
belief,  and  so  forfeit  their  salvation. 

441  Sentences:  the  reference  is  to  a  mediaeval  treatise  on  Theology, 
by  Peter  Lombard,  called  the  Book  oj  Sentences.  It  was  long  used  as  a 
university  text-book. 

444  Scotists  and  Thomists:  mediaeval  scholars,  followers  respectively 
of  Duns  Scotus  and  Thomas  Aquinas.  A  long  dispute  raged  between 
their  disciples.  In  this  couplet  Pope  points  out  that  the  dispute  is  now 
forgotten,  and  the  books  of  the  old  disputants  lie  covered  with  cob- 
webs in  Duck-lane,  a  street  in  London  where  second-hand  books  were 
sold  in  Pope's  day.  He  calls  the  cobwebs  "  kindred,"  because  the 
arguments  of  Thomists  and  Scotists  were  as  fine  spun  as  a  spider's 
web. 

449  "The  latest  fashionable  folly  is  the  test,  or  the  proof,  of  a  quick, 
up-to-date  wit."  In  other  words,  to  be  generally  accepted  an  author  must 
accept  the  current  fashion,  foolish  though  it  may  be. 

467  This  was  especially  true  in  Pope's  day  when  literature  was  so 


112  NOTES 

closely  connected  with  politics  that  an  author's  work  was  praised  or 
blamed  not  upon  its  merits,  but  according  to  his,  and  the  critic's,  politics. 

459  Parsons,  Critics,  Beaus:  Dryden,  the  head  of  English  letters 
in  the  generation  before  Pope,  had  been  bitterly  assailed  on  various 
charges  by  parsons,  Hke  Jeremy  CoUier,  critics  like  Milbourn,  and  fine 
gentlemen  like  the  Duke  of  Buckingham.  But  his  works  remained  when 
the  jests  that  were  made  against  them  were  forgotten. 

463  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  a  famous  doctor  in  Dryden's  day,  was 
also  a  very  dull  and  voluminous  writer.  He  attacked  Dryden  in  a  poem 
called  A  Satire  against  Wit.  Luke  Milbourn  was  a  clergyman  of  the 
same  period,  who  abused  Dryden's  translation  of  Virgil. 

465  Zoilus:    a  Greek  critic  who  attacked  Homer. 

481  The  English  language  and  the  public  taste  had  changed  very 
rapidly  during  the  century  preceding  Pope.  He  imagined  that  these 
changes  would  continue  so  that  no  poet's  reputation  would  last  longer 
than  a  man's  Hfe,  "  bare  threescore,"  and  Dryden's  poetry  would  come 
to  be  as  hard  to  understand  and  as  little  read  as  Chaucer's  at  that  time. 
It  is  worth  noting  that  both  Dryden  and  Pope  rewrote  parts  of  Chaucer 
in  modern  English. 

606-607  Explain  why  "  wit  "  is  feared  by  wicked  men  and  shunned 
by  the  virtuous,  hated  by  fools,  and  "  undone  "  or  ruined  by  knaves. 

521   sacred:    accursed,  like  the  Latin  sacer. 

527  spleen:  bad  temper. 

634  the  fat  age:  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  as  11.  536-537  show,  when 
literature  became  notoriously  licentious. 

538  Jilts  .  .  .  statesmen:  loose  women  like  Lady  Castlemaine  and 
the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth  had  great  influence  on  the  poHtics  of  Charles 
IPs  time,  and  statesmen  of  that  day  like  Buckingham  and  Etheredge 
wrote  comedies. 

541  Mask:  it  was  not  uncommon  in  Restoration  times  for  ladies  to 
wear  a  mask  in  public,  especially  at  the  theater.  Here  the  word  is  used 
to  denote  the  woman  who  wore  a  mask. 

644  a  Foreign  reign:  the  reign  of  WiUiam  III,  a  Dutchman.  Pope, 
as  a  Tory  and  a  Catholic,  hated  the  memory  of  William,  and  here  asserts, 
rather  unfairly,  that  his  age  was  marked  by  an  increase  of  heresy  and 
infidelity. 

545  Socinus:  the  name  of  two  famous  heretics,  uncle  and  nephew, 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  who  denied  the  divinity  of  Christ. 

649  Pope  insinuates  here  that  the  clergy  under  William  III  hated 


NOTES  113 

an  absolute  monarch  so  much  that  they  even  encouraged  their  hearers 
to  question  the  absolute  power  of  God. 

551  admir'd:    see  note  1.  391. 

552  Wit's  Titans:  wits  who  defied  heaven  as  the  old  Titans  did  the 
gods.  The  reference  is  to  a  group  of  freethinkers  who  came  into  promi- 
nence in  King  William's  reign. 

556  scandalously  nice:  so  over-particular  as  to  find  cause  for  scandal 
where  none  exists. 

667  mistake  an  author  into  vice:  mistakenly  read  into  an  authoi 
vicious  ideas  which  are  not  really  to  be  found  in  his  work. 

675  Things  that  men  really  do  not  know  must  be  brought  forward 
I  lodestly  as  if  they  had  only  been  forgotten  for  a  time. 

677  That  only:    good-breeding  alone. 

585  Appius:  a  nickname  for  John  Dennis,  taken  from  his  tragedy, 
Appius  and  Virginia,  which  appeared  two  years  before  the  Essay  on 
Criticism.  Lines  585-587  hit  off  some  of  the  personal  characteristics 
of  this  hot-tempered  critic.  "Tremendous"  was  a  favorite  word  with 
Dennis. 

588  tax:    blame,  find  fault  with. 

591  In  Pope's  time  noblemen  could  take  degrees  at  the  English 
universities  without  passing  the  regular  examinations. 

617  Dryden's  Fables  published  in  1700  represented  the  very  best 
narrative  poetry  of  the  greatest  poet  of  his  day.  D'Urfey's  Tales,  on 
the  other  hand,  published  in  1704  and  1706,  were  collections  of  duU  and 
obscene  doggerel  by  a  wretched  poet. 

618  With  him:    according  to  "the  bookful  blockhead." 

619  Garth:  a  well-known  doctor  of  the  day,  who  wrote  a  much  ad- 
mired mock-heroic  poem  called  The  Dispensary.  His  enemies  asserted 
that  he  was  not  really  the  author  of  the  poem. 

623  Such  foolish  critics  are  just  as  ready  to  pour  out  their  opinions 
on  a  man  in  St.  Paul's  cathedral  as  in  the  bookseller's  shops  in  the  square 
around  the  church,  which  is  called  St.  Paul's  churchyard. 

632  proud  to  know:    proud  of  his  knowledge. 

636  humanly:    an  old  form   for  "  humanely." 

642  love  to  praise:    a  love  of  praising  men. 

648  Maeonian  Star:  Homer.  Maeonia,  or  Lydia,  was  a  district  in 
Asia  which  was  said  to  have  been  the  birthplace  of  Homer. 

662  conquered  Nature:  Aristotle  was  a  master  of  all  the  knowledge 
of  nature  extant  in  his  day. 


114  NOTES 

653  Horace:  the  famous  Latin  poet  whose  Ars  Poetica  was  one  of 
Pope's  models  for  the  Essay  on  Criticism. 

662  fle'me  :  phlegm,  according  to  old  ideas  of  physiology,  one  of  the 
four  "humours "  or  fluids  which  composed  the  body.  Where  it  abounded 
it  made  men  dull  and  heavy,  or  as  we  still  say  "  phlegmatic." 

663-664  A  rather  confused  couplet.  It  means,  "  Horace  suffers  as 
much  by  the  misquotations  critics  make  from  his  work  as  by  the  bad 
translations  that  wits  make  of  them." 

665  Dionysius:  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  a  famous  Greek  critic. 
Pope's  manner  of  reference  to  him  seems  to  show  that  he  had  never 
read  his  works. 

667  Petronius:  a  courtier  and  man  of  letters  of  the  time  of  Nero. 
Only  a  few  lines  of  his  remaining  work  contain  any  criticism. 

669  Quintilian's  work  :  the  Institutiones  Oratories  of  Quintilianus, 
a  famous  Latin  critic  of  the  first  century  a.d. 

675  Longinus:  a  Greek  critic  of  the  third  century  A.D.,  who  composed 
a  famous  work  called  A  Treatise  on  the  Sublime.  It  is  a  work  showing 
high  imagination  as  well  as  careful  reasoning,  and  hence  Pope  speaks 
of  the  author  as  inspired  by  the  Nine,  i.e.  the  Muses. 

692  The  willful  hatred  of  the  monks  for  the  works  of  classical  antiquity 
tended  to  complete  that  destruction  of  old  books  which  the  Goths  began 
when  they  sacked  the  Roman  cities.  Many  ancient  writings  were  erased, 
for  example,  in  order  to  get  parchment  for  monkish  chronicles  and 
commentaries. 

693  Erasmus:  perhaps  the  greatest  scholar  of  the  Renaissance.  Pope 
calls  him  the  "  glory  of  the  priesthood  "  on  account  of  his  being  a  monk 
of  such  extraordinary  learning,  and  "the  shame"  of  his  order,  because 
he  was  so  abused  by  monks  in  his  lifetime.     Is  this  a  good  antithesis? 

697  Leo's  golden  days:  the  pontificate  of  Leo  X  (1513-1521).  Leo 
himself  was  a  generous  patron  of  art  and  learning.  He  paid  particular 
attention  to  sacred  music  (1.  703),  and  engaged  Raphael  to  decorate  the 
Vatican  with  frescoes.  Vida  (1.  704)  was  an  Italian  poet  of  his  time,  who 
became  famous  by  the  excellence  of  his  Latin  verse.  One  of  his  poems 
was  on  the  art  of  poetry,  and  it  is  to  this  that  Pope  refers  in  I.  706. 

707-708  Cremona  was  the  birthplace  of  Vida;  Mantua,  of  Virgil. 

709  The  allusion  is  to  the  sack  of  Rome  by  the  Constable  Bourbon's 
army  in  1527.    This  marked  the  end  of  the  golden  age  of  arts  in  Italy. 

714  Boileau:  a  French  poet  and  critic  (1636-1711).  His  UArt 
Foetique  is  founded  on  Horace's  Ars  Poetica. 


NOTES  115 

723  the  Muse:  i.e.  the  genius,  of  John  Sheffield  (i 649-1 720),  Duke 
of  Buckingham  (not  to  be  confounded  with  Dryden's  enemy).  Line  724 
is  quoted  from  his  Essay  on  Poetry. 

725  Roscommon:  Wentworth  Dillon  (1633-1684),  Earl  of  Roscommon, 
author  of  a  translation  of  the  Ars  Poetica  and  of  ^w  Essay  on  Translated 
Verse. 

729  Walsh:  a  commonplace  poet  (1663-1708),  but  apparently  a 
good  critic.  Dryden,  in  fact,  called  him  the  best  critic  in  the  nation. 
He  was  an  early  friend  and  judicious  adviser  of  Pope  himself,  who 
showed  him  much  of  his  early  work,  including  the  first  draft  of  this  very 
poem.  Pope  was  sincerely  attached  to  him,  and  this  tribute  to  his  dead 
friend  is  marked  by  deep  and  genuine  feeling. 

738  short  excursions:  such  as  this  Essay  on  Criticism  instead  of 
longer  and  more  ambitious  poems  which  Pope  planned  and  in  part 
executed  in  his  boyhood.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe  with  Mr.  Elwin 
that  this  passage  proves  that  Pope  formed  the  design  of  the  poem  after 
the  death  of  Walsh. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   MAN 
INTRODUCTION 

The  Essay  on  Man  is  the  longest  and  in  some  ways  the  most 
important  work  of  the  third  period  of  Pope's  career.  It  corresponds 
closely  to  his  early  work,  the  Essay  on  Criticism.  Like  the  earlier 
work,  the  Essay  on  Man  is  a  didactic  poem,  written  primarily 
to  diffuse  and  popularize  certain  ideas  of  the  poet.  As  in  the  earlier 
work  these  ideas  are  by  no  means  original  with  Pope,  but  were  the 
common  property  of  a  school  of  thinkers  in  his  day.  As  in  the  Essay 
on  Criticism,  Pope  here  attempts  to  show  that  these  ideas  have  their 
origin  in  nature  and  are  consistent  with  the  common  sense  of  man. 
And  finally  the  merit  of  the  later  work,  even  more  than  of  the  earlier, 
is  due  to  the  force  and  brilliancy  of  detached  passages  rather  than  to  any 
coherent,  consistent,  and  well-balanced  system  which  it  presents. 

The  close  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
was  marked  by  a  change  of  ground  in  the  sphere  of  religious  controversy. 
The  old  debates  between  the  Catholic  and  Protestant  churches  gradually 


Ii6  NOTES 

died  out  as  these  two  branches  of  Western  Christianity  settled  down  in 
quiet  possession  of  the  territory  they  still  occupy.  In  their  place  arose 
a  vigorous  controversy  on  the  first  principles  of  religion  in  general,  on 
the  nature  of  God,  the  origin  of  evil,  the  place  of  man  in  the  universe,  and 
the  respective  merits  of  optimism  and  pessimism  as  philosophic  theories. 
The  controversialists  as  a  rule  either  rejected  or  neglected  the  dogmas  of 
revealed  religion  and  based  their  arguments  upon  real  or  supposed  facts 
of  historj',  physical  nature,  and  the  mental  processes  and  moral  charac- 
teristics of  man.  In  this  controversy  the  two  parties  at  times  were  curi- 
ously mingled.  Orthodox  clergymen  used  arguments  which  justified 
a  strong  suspicion  of  their  orthodoxy;  and  avowed  freethinkers  bitterly 
disclaimed  the  imputation  of  atheism  and  wrote  in  terms  that  might 
be  easily  adopted  by  a  devout  believer. 

Into  this  controversy  Pope  was  led  by  his  deepening  intimacy  with 
Bolingbroke,  who  had  returned  from  France  in  1725  and  settled  at  his 
country  place  within  a  few  miles  of  Twickenham.  During  his  long  exile 
Bolingbroke  had  amused  himself  with  the  study  of  moral  philosophy 
and  natural  religion,  and  in  his  frequent  intercourse  with  Pope  he  poured 
out  his  new-found  opinions  with  all  the  fluency,  vigor,  and  polish  which 
made  him  so  famous  among  the  orators  and  talkers  of  the  day.  Boling- 
broke's  views  were  for  that  time  distinctly  heterodox,  and,  if  logically 
developed,  led  to  complete  agnosticism.  But  he  seems  to  have  avoided 
a  complete  statement  of  his  ideas  to  Pope,  possibly  for  fear  of  shock- 
ing or  frightening  the  sensitive  little  poet  who  still  remained  a  professed 
Catholic.  Pope,  however,  was  very  far  from  being  a  strict  Catholic,  and 
indeed  prided  himself  on  the  breadth  and  liberality  of  his  opinions. 
He  was,  therefore,  at  once  fascinated  and  stimulated  by  the  eloquent 
conversation  of  Bolingbroke,  and  resolved  to  write  a  philosophical  poem 
in  which  to  embody  the  ideas  they  held  in  common.  Bolingbroke 
approved  of  the  idea,  and  went  so  far  as  to  furnish  the  poet  with  seven 
or  eight  sheets  of  notes  "  to  direct  the  plan  in  general  and  to  supply 
matter  for  particular  epistles."  Lord  Bathurst,  who  knew  both  Pope  and 
Bolingbroke,  went  so  far  as  to  say  in  later  years  that  the  Essay  was 
originally  composed  by  Bolingbroke  in  prose  and  that  Pope  only  put  it 
into  verse.  But  this  is  undoubtedly  an  exaggeration  of  what  Pope 
himself  frankly  acknowledged,  that  the  poem  was  composed  under  the 
influence  of  Bolingbroke,  that  in  the  main  it  reflected  his  opinions,  and 
that  Bolingbroke  had  assisted  him  in  the  general  plan  and  in  numerous 
details.     Very  properly,  therefore,  the  poem  is  addressed  to  Bolingbroke 


NOTES  117 

and  begins  and  closes  with  a  direct  address  to  the  poet's  "  guide,  phi- 
losopher, and  friend." 

In  substance  the  Essay  on  Man  is  a  discussion  of  the  moral  order  of 
the  world.  Its  purpose  is  "  to  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man,"  and  it 
may  therefore  be  regarded  as  an  attempt  to  confute  the  skeptics  who 
argued  from  the  existence  of  evil  in  the  world  and  the  wretchedness  of 
man's  existence  to  the  impossibility  of  behef  in  an  all-good  and  all-wise 
God.  It  attempts  to  do  this,  not  by  an  appeal  to  revelation  or  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  but  simply  on  the  basis  of  a  common-sense  inter- 
pretation of  the  facts  of  existence. 

A  brief  outline  of  the  poem  will  show  the  general  tenor  of  Pope's 
argument. 

The  first  epistle  deals  with  the  nature  and  state  of  man  with  respect  to 
the  universe.  It  insists  on  the  limitations  of  man's  knowledge,  and  the 
consequent  absurdity  of  his  presuming  to  murmur  against  God.  It 
teaches  that  the  universe  was  not  made  for  man,  but  that  man  with  aU 
his  apparent  imperfections  is  exactly  fitted  to  the  place  which  he  occupies 
in  the  universe.  In  the  physical  universe  all  things  work  together  for 
good,  although  certain  aspects  of  nature  seem  evil  to  man,  and  likewise 
in  the  moral  universe  all  things,  even  man's  passions  and  crimes  con- 
duce to  the  general  good  of  the  whole.  Finally  it  urges  calm  submission 
aiid  acquiescence  in  what  is  hard  to  understand,  since  "  one  truth  is 
clear,  —  whatever  is,  is  right." 

The  second  epistle  deals  with  the  nature  of  man  as  an  individual.  It 
begins  by  urging  men  to  abandon  vain  questionings  of  God's  providence 
and  to  take  up  the  consideration  of  their  own  natures,  for  "  the  proper 
study  of  mankind  is  man."  Pope  points  out  that  the  two  cardinal  princi- 
ples of  man's  nature  are  self-love  and  reason,  the  first  an  impelling,  the 
second  a  regulating  power.  The  aim  of  both  these  principles  is  pleasure, 
by  which  Pope  means  happiness,  which  he  takes  for  the  highest  good. 
Each  man  is  dominated  by  a  master  passion,  and  it  is  the  proper  func- 
tion of  reason  to  control  this  passion  for  good  and  to  make  it  bear  fruit  in 
virtue.  No  man  is  wholly  virtuous  or  vicious,  and  Heaven  uses  the  mingled 
qualities  of  men  to  bind  them  together  in  mutual  interdependence,  and 
makes  the  various  passions  and  imperfections  of  mankind  serve  the  gen- 
eral good.  And  the  final  conclusion  is  that  "  though  man's  a  fool,  yet 
God  is  wise." 

The  third  epistle  treats  of  the  nature  of  man  with  respect  to  society. 
All  creatures,  Pope  asserts,  are  bound  together  and  live  not  for  them- 


ii8  NOTES 

selves  alone,  but  man  is  preeminently  a  social  being.  The  first  state 
of  man  was  the  state  of  nature  when  he  lived  in  innocent  ignorance 
with  his  fellow-creatures.  Obeying  the  voice  of  nature,  man  learned  to 
copy  and  improve  upon  the  instincts  of  the  animals,  to  build,  to  plow,  to 
spin,  to  unite  in  societies  like  those  of  ants  and  bees.  The  first  form  of 
government  was  patriarchal;  then  monarchies  arose  in  which  virtue, 
"  in  arms  or  arts,"  made  one  man  ruler  over  many.  In  either  case  the 
origin  of  true  government  as  of  true  rehgion  was  love.  Gradually  force 
crept  in  and  uniting  with  superstition  gave  rise  to  tyranny  and  false 
religions.  Poets  and  patriots,  however,  restored  the  ancient  faith  and 
taught  power's  due  use  by  showing  the  necessity  of  harmony  in  the  state. 
Pope  concludes  by  asserting  the  folly  of  contention  for  forms  of  govern- 
ment or  modes  of  faith.  The  common  end  of  government  as  of  religion  is 
the  general  good.  It  may  be  noticed  in  passing  that  Pope's  account  of 
the  evolution  of  society  bears  even  less  relation  to  historical  facts  than 
does  his  account  of  the  development  of  literature  in  the  Essay  on 
Criticism. 

The  last  epistle  discusses  the  nature  of  happiness,  "  our  being's  end  and 
aim."  Happiness  is  attainable  by  all  men  who  think  right  and  mean 
well.  It  consists  not  in  individual,  but  in  mutual  pleasure.  It  does  not 
consist  in  external  things,  mere  gifts  of  fortune,  but  in  health,  peace,  and 
competence.  Virtuous  men  are,  indeed,  subject  to  calamities  of  nature ; 
but  God  cannot  be  expected  to  suspend  the  operation  of  general  laws  to 
spare  the  virtuous.  Objectors  who  would  construct  a  system  in  which  all 
virtuous  men  are  blest,  are  challenged  to  define  the  virtuous  and  to  specify 
what  is  meant  by  blessings.  Honors,  nobility,  fame,  superior  talents, 
often  merely  serve  to  make  their  possessors  unhappy.  Virtue  alone  is 
happiness,  and  virtue  consists  in  a  recognition  of  the  laws  of  Providence, 
and  in  love  for  one's  fellow-man. 

Even  this  brief  outline  will  show,  I  think,  some  of  the  inconsistencies  and 
omissions  of  Pope's  train  of  thought.  A  careful  examination  of  his  argu- 
ments in  detail  would  be  wholly  out  of  place  here.  The  reader  who  wishes 
to  pursue  the  subject  further  may  consult  Warburton's  elaborate  vindica- 
tion of  Pope's  argument,  and  Elwin's  equally  prosy  refutation,  or  better 
still  the  admirable  summary  by  Leslie  Stephen  in  the  chapter  on  this 
poem  in  his  life  of  Pope  {English  Men  of  Letters).  No  one  is  now  likely  to 
turn  to  the  writer  of  the  early  eighteenth  century  for  a  system  of  the 
universe,  least  of  all  to  a  writer  so  incapable  of  exact  or  systematic 
thinking  as  Alexander  Pope.     If  the  Essay  on  Man  has  any  claim  to  be 


NOTES  119 

read  to-day,  it  must  be  as  a  piece  of  literature  pure  and  simple.  For 
philosophy  and  poetry  combined,  Browning  and  Tennyson  lie  nearer  to 
our  age  and  mode  of  thought  than  Pope. 

Even  regarded  as  a  piece  of  literature  the  Essay  on  Man  cannot,  I  think, 
claim  the  highest  place  among  Pope's  works.  It  obtained,  indeed,  a  suc- 
cess at  home  and  abroad  such  as  was  achieved  by  no  other  English  poem 
until  the  appearance  of  Childe  Harold.  It  was  translated  into  French, 
German,  Italian,  Portuguese,  Polish,  and  Latin.  It  was  imitated  by 
Wieland,  praised  by  Voltaire,  and  quoted  by  Kant.  But  this  success 
was  due  in  part  to  the  accuracy  with  which  it  reflected  ideas  which  were 
the  common  property  of  its  age,  in  part  to  the  extraordinary  vigor  and 
finish  of  its  epigrams,  which  made  it  one  of  the  most  quotable  of  English 
poems.  But  as  a  whole  the  Essay  is  not  a  great  poem.  The  poet  is 
evidently  struggling  with  a  subject  that  is  too  weighty  for  him,  and  at 
times  he  staggers  and  sinks  beneath  his  burden.  The  second  and  third 
books  in  particular  are,  it  must  be  confessed,  with  the  exception  of  one  or 
two  fine  outbursts,  little  better  than  dull,  and  dullness  is  not  a  quality 
one  is  accustomed  to  associate  with  Pope.  The  Essay  on  Man  lacks 
the  bright  humor  and  imaginative  artistry  of  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  and 
the  lively  portraiture,  vigorous  satire,  and  strong  personal  note  of  the 
Moral  Epistles  and  Imitations  of  Horace.  Pope  is  at  his  best  when  he  is 
dealing  with  a  concrete  world  of  men  and  women  as  they  lived  and  moved 
in  the  London  of  his  day;  he  is  at  his  worst  when  he  is  attempting  to  seize 
and  render  abstract  ideas. 

Yet  the  Essay  on  Man  is  a  very  remarkable  work.  In  the  first  place,  it 
shows  Pope's  wonderful  power  of  expression.  No  one  can  read  the  poem 
for  the  first  time  without  meeting  on  page  after  page  phrases  and  epigrams 
which  have  become  part  of  the  common  currency  of  our  language.  Pope's 
"  precision  and  firmness  of  touch,"  to  quote  the  apt  statement  of  Leslie 
Stephen,  "enables  him  to  get  the  greatest  possible  meaning  into  a  narrow 
compass.  He  uses  only  one  epithet,  but  it  is  the  right  one."  Even  when  the 
thought  is  commonplace  enough,  the  felicity  of  the  expression  gives  it  a 
new  and  effective  force.  And  there  are  whole  passages  where  Pope  rises 
high  above  the  mere  coining  of  epigrams.  As  I  have  tried  to  show  in  my 
notes  he  composed  by  separate  paragraphs,  and  when  he  chances  upon  a 
topic  that  appeals  to  his  imagination  or  touches  his  heart,  we  get  an  out- 
burst of  poetry  that  shines  in  splendid  contrast  to  the  prosaic  plainness 
of  its  surroundings.  Such,  for  example,  are  the  noble  verses  that  tell  of 
the  immanence  of  God  in  his  creation  at  the  close  of  the  first  epistle,  or  the 


le 


J  20  NOTES 

magnificent  invective  against  tyranny  and  superstition  in  the  third  (11.  241-. 

268). 

Finally  the  Essay  on  Man  is  of  interest  in  what  it  tells  us  of  Pope  himself. 
Mr.  Elwin's  idea  that  in  the  Essay  on  Man  Pope,  "partly  the  dupe,  partly 
the  accomplice  of  Bolingbroke,"  was  attempting  craftily  to  undermine 
the  foundations  of  religion,  is  a  notion  curiously  compounded  of  critical 
blindness  and  theological  rancor.  In  spite  of  all  its  incoherencies  and 
futilities  the  Essay  is  an  honest  attempt  to  express  Pope's  opinions,  bor- 
rowed in  part,  of  course,  from  his  admired  friend,  but  in  part  the  current 
notions  of  his  age,  on  some  of  the  greatest  questions  that  have  perplexed 
the  mind  of  man.  And  Pope's  attitude  toward  the  questions  is  that  of 
the  best  minds  of  his  day,  at  once  religious,  independent,  and  sincere. 
He  acknowledges  the  omnipotence  and  benevolence  of  God,  confesses  th 
limitations  and  imperfections  of  human  knowledge,  teaches  humility 
in  the  presence  of  unanswerable  problems,  urges  submission  to  Divine 
Providence,  extols  virtue  as  the  true  source  of  happiness,  and  love  of  man 
as  an  essential  of  virtue.  If  we  study  the  Essay  on  Man  as  the  reasoned 
argument  of  a  philosopher,  we  shall  turn  from  it  vdth  something  like  con- 
tempt; if  we  read  it  as  the  expression  of  a  poet's  sentiments,  we  shall,  I 
think,  leave  it  with  an  admiration  warmer  than  before  for  a  character  that 
has  been  so  much  abused  and  so  little  understood  as  that  of  Pope. 

THE   DESIGN 

a  Bacon's  expression:  in  the  dedication  of  his  Essays  (1625)  to  Buck- 
ingham, Bacon  speaks  of  them  as  the  most  popular  of  his  writings,  "  for 
that,  as  it  seems,  they  come  home  to  men's  business  and  bosoms." 

11    anatomy:  dissection. 

EPISTLE   I 

1  St.  John:  Henry  St.  John,  Lord  BoHngbroke,  Pope's  "  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend,"  under  whose  influence  the  Essay  on  Man  was 
composed. 

6  expatiate:  range,  wander. 

6  Pope  says  that  this  line  alludes  to  the  subject  of  this  first  Epistle, 
"  the  state  of  man  here  and  hereafter,  disposed  by  Providence,  though  to 
him  unknown."  The  next  two  lines  allude  to  the  main  topics  of  the  three 
remaining  epistles,  "  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind  .  .  .  the  temp- 


NOTES  121 

tations  of  misapplied  self-love,  and  the  wrong  pursuits  of  power,  pleasure, 
and  false  happiness." 

9  beat  .  .  .  field:  the  metaphor  is  drawn  from  hunting.  Note  how 
it  is  elaborated  in  the  following  lines. 

12  blindly  creep  .  .  .  sightless  soar:  the  first  are  the  ignorant  and 
indifferent;  those  who  "sightless  soar  "  are  the  presumptuous  who  reason 
blindly  about  things  too  high  for  human  knowledge. 

15  candid:    lenient,  free  from  harsh  judgments. 

16  An  adaptation  of  a  well-known  line  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  1, 26. 
l't-22  Pope  lays  down  as  the  basis  of  his  system  that  all  argument 

about  man  or  God  must  be  based  upon  what  we  know  of  man's  present 
life,  and  of  God's  workings  in  this  world  of  ours. 

29  this  frame:  the  universe.  Compare  Hamlet,  II,  ii,  310,  "this 
goodly  frame,  the  earth." 

30  nice  dependencies:   subtle  inter-relations. 

31  Gradations  just:  exact  shades  of  difference. 

32  a  part:  the  mind  of  man,  which  is  but  a  part  of  the  whole  universe. 

33  the  great  chain:  according  to  Homer,  Jove,  the  supreme  God,  sus- 
tained the  whole  creation  by  a  golden  chain.  Milton  also  makes  use  of 
this  idea  of  the  visible  universe  as  linked  to  heaven  in  a  golden  chain, 
Paradise  Lost,  II,  1004— 1006,  and  1051-1052. 

41  yonder  argent  fields:  the  sky  spangled  vsdth  silvery  stars.  The 
phrase  is  borrowed  from  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  III,  460. 

42  Jove:  the  planet  Jupiter.  —  satellites:  Pope  preserves  here  the 
Latin  pronunciation,  four  syllables,  with  the  accent  on  the  ante- 
penult. 

43-50  Pope  here  takes  it  for  granted  that  our  universe,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  the  work  of  God's  infinite  wisdom,  must  be  the  best  system  possible. 
If  this  be  granted,  he  says,  it  is  plain  that  man  must  have  a  place 
somewhere  in  this  system,  and  the  only  question  is  whether  "  God  has 
placed  him  wrong." 

45  Every  grade  in  creation  must  be  complete,  so  as  to  join  with  that 
which  is  beneath  and  with  that  which  is  above  it  or  there  would  be  a 
lack  of  coherency,  a  break,  somewhere  in  the  system. 

47  reas'ning  life:   conscious  mental  life. 

51-60  Pope  argues  here  that  since  man  is  a  part  of  the  best  possible 
system,  whatever  seems  wrong  in  him  must  be  right  when  considered  in 
relation  to  the  whole  order  of  the  universe.  It  is  only  our  ignorance  of 
this  order  which  keeps  us  from  realizing  this  fact. 


122 


NOTES 


66  one  single:   the  word  " movement "  is  understood  after  "  single." 
61-68  Pope  here  illustrates  his  preceding  argument  by  analogy.     We 

can  know  no  more  of  God's  purpose  in  the  ordering  of  our  lives  than  the 

animals  can  know  of  our  ordering  of  theirs. 

64  ^Egypt's  God:  One  of  the  gods  of  the  Egyptians  was  the  sacred 

bull,  Apis. 

68  a  deity:   worshiped  as  a  god,  like  the  Egyptian  kings  and  Roman 

emperors. 

69-76  Pope  now  goes  on  to  argue  that  on  the  basis  of  what  has  been 
proved  we  ought  not  to  regard  man  as  an  imperfect  being,  but  rather  as 
one  who  is  perfectly  adapted  to  his  place  in  the  universe.  His  knowledge, 
for  example,  is  measured  by  the  brief  time  he  has  to  live  and  the  brief 

space  he  can  survey. 

69  fault:  pronounced  in  Pope's  day  as  rhyming  with  "ought." 
73-76  These  lines  are  really  out  of  place.     They  first  appeared  after 

1.  98;  then  Pope  struck  them  out  altogether.  Just  before  his  death  he 
put  them  into  their  present  place  on  the  advice  of  Warburton,  who  prob- 
ably approved  of  them  because  of  their  reference  to  a  future  state  of  bliss. 
It  is  plain  that  they  interfere  with  the  regular  argument  of  the  poem, 

79  This  line  is  grammatically  dependent  upon  "  hides,"  1.  77. 

81  riot:  used  here  in  the  sense  of  "luxurious  life."  The  lamb  isslain  to 
pro\'ide  for  some  feast. 

86  Heav'n:  i.e.  God.     Hence  the  relative  "  who  "  in  the  next  line. 

91^98  Pope  urges  man  to  comfort  himself  with  hope,  seeing  that  he 
cannot  know  the  future. 

93  What  future  bliss:  the  words  "  shall  be  "  are  to  be  understood  after 
this  phrase. 

96  Point  out  the  exact  meaning  of  this  familiar  line. 

97  from  home:  away  from  its  true  home,  the  life  to  come.  This  line 
represents  one  of  the  alterations  which  Warburton  induced  Pope  to  make. 
The  poet  first  wrote  "confined  at  home,"  thus  representing  this  life  as  the 
home  of  the  soul.  His  friend  led  him  to  make  the  change  in  order  to 
express  more  clearly  his  belief  in  the  soul's  immortality. 

89  Show  how  "rests  "  and  ' '  expatiates  "  in  this  line  contrast  with  "  un- 
easy  "  and  "  confined  "  in  1.  97. 

99-112  In  this  famous  passage  Pope  shows  how  the  belief  in  immor- 
tality is  found  even  among  the  most  ignorant  tribes.  This  is  to  Pope  an 
argument  that  the  soul  must  be  immortal,  since  only  Nature,  or  God 
working  through  Nature,  could  have  implanted  this  conception  in  the 
Indian's  mind. 


NOTES  123 

102  the  solar  walk:  the  sun's  path  in  the  heavens. — the  milky  way: 

some  old  philosophers  held  that  the  souls  of  good  men  went  thither  after 
death. 

Pope  means  that  the  ignorant  Indian  had  no  conception  of  a  heaven 
reserved  for  the  just  such  as  Greek  sages  and  Christian  believers  have. 
All  he  believes  in  is  "  an  humbler  heaven,"  where  he  shall  be  free  from 
the  evils  of  this  life.  Line  108  has  special  reference  to  the  tortures  inflicted 
upon  the  natives  of  Mexico  and  Peru  by  the  avaricious  Spanish  conquerors. 

109-110  He  is  contented  with  a  future  existence,  without  asking  for 
the  glories  of  the  Christian's  heaven. 

Ill  equal  sky:  impartial  heaven,  for  the  heaven  of  the  Indians  was 
open  to  all  men,  good  or  bad. 

113-130  In  this  passage  Pope  blames  those  civilized  men  who, 
though  they  should  be  wiser  than  the  Indian,  murmur  against  the  decrees 
of  God.  The  imperative  verbs  "  weigh,"  "  call,"  "  say,"  etc,  are  used 
satirically. 

113  scale  of  sense:  the  scale,  or  means  of  judgment,  which  our  senses 
give  us. 

117  gust:  the  pleasure  of  taste. 

120  The  murmurers  are  dissatisfied  that  man  is  not  at  once  perfect  in 
his  present  state  and  destined  to  immortality,  although  such  gifts  have 
been  given  to  no  other  creature. 

123  reas'ning  Pride:  the  pride  of  the  intellect  which  assumes  to  con- 
demn God's  providence. 

131-172  In  this  passage  Pope  imagines  a  dialogue  between  one  of 
the  proud  murmurers  he  has  described  and  himself.  His  opponent  in- 
sists that  the  world  was  made  primarily  for  man's  enjoyment  (11.  132-140). 
Pope  asks  whether  nature  does  not  seem  to  swerve  from  this  end  of  pro- 
moting human  happiness  in  times  of  pestilence,  earthquake,  and  tem- 
pest (11.  1 41-144).  The  other  answers  that  these  are  only  rare  exceptions 
to  the  general  laws,  due  perhaps  to  some  change  in  nature  since  the 
world  began  (11.  145-148).  Pope  replies  by  asking  why  there  should  not  be 
exceptions  in  the  moral  as  well  as  in  the  physical  world;  may  not  great 
villains  be  compared  to  terrible  catastrophes  in  nature  (11.  148-156)? 
He  goes  on  to  say  that  no  one  but  God  can  answer  this  question,  that 
our  human  reasoning  springs  from  pride,  and  that  the  true  course  of 
reasoning  is  simply  to  submit  (11.  156-164).  He  then  suggests  that 
■'  passions,"  by  which  he  means  vices,  are  as  necessary  a  part  of  the  moral 
order  as  storms  of  the  physical  world  (11.  165-172). 


124  NOTES 

142  livid  deaths:   pestilence. 

143-144  Pope  was  perhaps  thinking  of  a  terrible  earthquake  and 
flood  that  had  caused  great  loss  of  life  in  Chili  the  year  before  this  poem 

appeared. 

150  Then  Nature  deviates:  Nature  departs  from  her  regular  order  on 
such  occasions  as  these  catastrophes. 

151  that  end:  human  happiness,  as  in  1.  149. 

156  Cjesar  Borgia,  the  wicked  son  of  Pope  Alexander  VI,  and  Catiline 
are  mentioned  here  as  portents  in  the  moral  world  parallel  to  plagues  and 
earthquakes  in  the  physical. 

160  young  Ammon:  Alexander  the  Great.  See  note  on  Essay  on 
Criticism,  1.  376. 

163  Why  do  we  accuse  God  for  permitting  wickedness  when  we  do 
not  blame  Him  for  permitting  evil  in  the  natural  world  ? 

166   there:  in  nature. — here:  in  man. 

173-206  In  this  section  Pope  reproves  those  who  are  dissatisfied  with 
man's  faculties.  He  points  out  that  all  animals,  man  included,  have 
powers  suited  to  their  position  in  the  world  (11. 179-188),  and  asserts  that 
if  man  had  keener  senses  than  he  now  has,  he  would  be  exposed  to  evils 
from  which  he  now  is  free  (11.  193-203). 

176  To  want:    to  lack. 

177  Paraphrase  this  line  in  prose. 

181   compensated:    accented  on  the  antepenult. 

183  the  state:  the  place  which  the  creature  occupies  in  the  natural 
world. 

195  finer  optics:  keener  power  of  sight. 

197  touch:  a  noun,  subject  of  "  were  given,"  understood  from  1.  195. 

199  quick  effluvia:  pungent  odors.  The  construction  is  very  con- 
densed here;  "  effluvia  "  may  be  regarded  like  "  touch  "  as  a  subject  of 
"  were  given  "  (1.  195);  but  one  would  expect  rather  a  phrase  to  denote  a 
keener  sense  of  smell  than  man  now  possesses. 

202  music  of  the  spheres:  it  was  an  old  belief  that  the  stars  and 
planets  uttered  musical  notes  as  they  moved  along  their  courses.  These 
notes  made  up  the  "  harmony  of  the  spheres."  Shakespeare  {Merchant 
of  Venice,  V,  64-5)  says  that  our  senses  are  too  dull  to  hear  it.  Pope, 
following  a  passage  in  Cicero's  Somnium  Scipionis,  suggests  that  this 
music  is  too  loud  for  human  senses. 

207-232  Pope  now  goes  on  to  show  how  in  the  animal  world  there  is 
an  exact  gradation  of  the  faculties  of  sense  and  of  the  powers  of  instinct 


NOTES  125 

Man  alone  is  endowed  with  reason  which  is  more  than  equivalent  to  all 
these  powers  and  makes  him  lord  over  all  animals. 

212  The  mole  is  almost  blind;  the  lynx  was  supposed  to  be  the  most 
keen-sighted  of  animals. 

213-214  The  lion  was  supposed  by  Pope  to  hunt  by  sight  alone  as  the 
dog  by  scent.     What  does  he  mean  by  "  the  tainted  green  "  ? 

215-216   Fishes  are  almost  deaf,  while  birds  are  verj'  quick  of  hearing 

219  nice:    keenly  discriminating.  ■ — healing  dew:   healthful  honey. 

221-222  The  power  of  instinct  which  is  barely  perceptible  in  the  pig 
amounts  almost  to  the  power  of  reason  in  the  elephant. 

223  barrier:  pronounced  like  the  French  barriere,  as  a  word  of  two 
syllables  with  the  accent  on  the  last. 

226  Sense  .   .   .  Thought:  sensation  and  reason. 

227  Middle  natures:  intermediate  natures,  which  long  to  unite  with 
tflose  above  or  below  them.     The  exact  sense  is  not  very  clear. 

233-258  In  this  passage  Pope  insists  that  the  chain  of  being  stretches 
unbroken  from  God  through  man  to  the  lowest  created  forms.  If  any 
link  in  this  chain  were  broken,  as  would  happen  if  men  possessed  higher 
faculties  than  are  now  assigned  them,  the  whole  universe  would  be  thrown 
into  confusion.  This  is  another  answer  to  those  who  complain  of  the 
imperfections  of  man's  nature. 

234  quick:  living.  Pope  does  not  discriminate  between  organic  and 
inorganic  matter. 

240  glass:   microscope. 

242-244  Inferior  beings  might  then  press  upon  us.  If  they  did  not,  a 
fatal  gap  would  be  left  by  our  ascent  in  the  scale. 

247  each  system:  Pope  imagines  the  universe  to  be  composed  of  an 
infinite  number  of  systems  like  ours.  Since  each  of  these  is  essential  to 
the  orderly  arrangement  of  the  universe,  any  disorder  such  as  he  has 
imagined  would  have  infinitely  destructive  consequences.  These  are 
described  in  11.  251-257. 

267-280  In  these  lines  Pope  speaks  of  God  as  the  soul  of  the  world 
in  an  outburst  of  really  exalted  enthusiasm  that  is  rare  enough  in  his 
work. 

269  That:   a  relative  pronoun  referring  to  "  soul,"  1.  268. 

270  th'  ethereal  frame:    the  heavens. 

276  as  perfect  in  a  hair  as  heart:  this  has  been  called  "  a  vile  antithe- 
sis," on  the  ground  that  there  is  no  reason  why  hair  and  heart  should 
be  contrasted.     But  Pope  may  have  had  in  mind  the  saying  of  Christ, 


126  NOTES 

"  the  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered."  The  hairs  are  spoken 
of  here  as  the  least  important  part  of  the  body;  the  heart,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  always  been  thought  of  as  the  most  important  organ.  There 
is,  therefore,  a  real  antithesis  between  the  two. 

278  Seraph  .  .  .  burns:  the  seraphim  according  to  old  commentators 
arc  on  fire  with  the  love  of  God. 

280  equals  all:  makes  all  things  equal.  This  does  not  seem  consistent 
with  the  idea  of  the  gradations  of  e.xistence  which  Pope  has  been  preach- 
ing throughout  this  Epistle.  Possibly  it  means  that  all  things  high  and 
low  are  filled  alike  with  the  divine  spirit  and  in  this  sense  all  things  are 
equal.  But  one  must  not  expect  to  find  exact  and  consistent  philosophy 
in  the  Essay  on  Man. 

281-294  Here  Pope  sums  up  the  argument  of  this  Epistle,  urging 
man  to  recognize  his  ignorance,  to  be  content  with  his  seeming  imperfec- 
tions, and  to  realize  that  "  whatever  is,  is  right." 

282  Our  proper  bliss:   our  happiness  as  men. 

283  point:    appointed  place  in  the  universe. 
286   Secure:  sure. 

289  -Hobbes,  an  English  philosopher  with  whose  work  Pope  was, 
no  doubt,  acquainted,  says,  "  Nature  is  the  art  whereby  God  governs  the 
world." 


AN   EPISTLE   TO    DR   ARBUTHNOT 

INTRODUCTION 

Next  to  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  I  think,  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot  is  the 
most  interesting  and  the  most  important  of  Pope's  poems  —  the  most 
important  since  it  shows  the  master  poet  of  the  age  employing  his  ripened 
powers  in  the  field  most  suitable  for  their  display,  that  of  personal  satire, 
the  most  interesting,  because,  unlike  his  former  satiric  poem  the  Dunciad, 
it  is  not  mere  invective,  but  gives  us,  as  no  other  poem  of  Pope's  can  be 
said  to  do,  a  portrait  of  the  poet  himself. 

Like  most  of  Pope's  poems,  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot  owes  its  existence 
to  an  objective  cause.  This  was  the  poet's  wish  to  justify  himself  against 
a  series  of  savage  attacks,  which  had  recently  been  directed  against  him. 
If  Pope  had  expected  by  the  publication  of  the  Dunciad  to  crush  the  herd 
of  scribblers  who  had  been  for  years  abusing  him,  he  must  have  been 


i 


NOTES  127 

woefully  disappointed.  On  the  contrar}',  the  roar  of  insult  and  calumny 
rose  louder  than  ever,  and  new  voices  were  added  to  the  chorus.  In  the 
year  1733  two  enemies  entered  the  field  against  Pope  such  as  he  had  never 
yet  had  to  encounter  —  enemies  of  high  social  position,  of  acknowledged 
wit,  and  of  a  certain,  though  as  the  sequel  proved  quite  inadequate,  talent 
for  satire.  These  were  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  and  Lord  John 
Hervey. 

Lady  Mary  had  been  for  years  acknowledged  as  one  of  the  wittiest, 
most  learned,  and  most  beautiful  women  of  her  day.  Pope  seems  to  have 
met  her  in  17 15  and  at  once  joined  the  train  of  her  admirers.  When  she 
accompanied  her  husband  on  his  embassy  to  Constantinople  in  the  fol- 
lowing year,  the  poet  entered  into  a  long  correspondence  with  her,  protest- 
ing in  the  most  elaborate  fashion  his  undying  devotion.  On  her  return  he 
induced  her  to  settle  with  her  husband  at  Twickenham.  Here  he  con- 
tinued his  attentions,  half  real,  half  in  the  ailected  gallantry  of  the 
day,  until,  to  quote  the  lady's  own  words  to  her  daughter  many  years 
after,  "  at  some  ill-chosen  time  when  she  least  expected  what  romancers 
call  a  declaration,  he  made  such  passionate  love  to  her,  as,  in  spite  of  her 
utmost  endeavours  to  be  angry  and  look  grave,  provoked  an  immoderate 
fit  of  laughter,"  and,  she  added,  from  that  moment  Pope  became  her  im- 
placable enemy.  Certainly  by  the  time  Pope  began  to  write  the  Diau 
ciad  he  was  so  far  estranged  from  his  old  friend  that  he  permitted  himself 
in  that  poem  a  scoffing  allusion  to  a  scandal  in  which  she  had  recently 
become  involved.  The  lady  answered,  or  the  poet  thought  that  she  did, 
with  an  anonymous  pamphlet,  A  Pop  upon  Pope,  describing  a  castiga- 
tion,  wholly  imaginary,  said  to  have  been  inflicted  upon  the  poet  as  a 
proper  reward  for  his  satire.  After  this,  of  course,  all  hope  of  a  recon- 
ciliation was  at  an  end,  and  in  his  satires  and  epistles  Pope  repeatedly 
Introduced  Lady  Mary  under  various  titles  in  the  most  offensive  fashion. 
In  his  first  Imitation  oj  Horace,  published  in  February,  1733,  he  referred 
in  the  most  unpardonable  manner  to  a  certain  Sappho,  and  the  dangers 
attendant  upon  any  acquaintance  with  her.  Lady  Mary  was  foolish 
enough  to  apply  the  lines  to  herself  and  to  send  a  common  friend  to  remon- 
strate with  Pope.  He  coolly  replied  that  he  was  surprised  that  Lady 
Mary  should  feel  hurt,  since  the  lines  could  only  apply  to  certain  women, 
naming  four  notorious  scribblers,  whose  lives  were  as  immoral  as  their 
works.  Such  an  answer  was  by  no  means  calculated  to  turn  away  the 
lady's  wrath,  and  for  an  ally  in  the  campaign  of  anonvmous  abuse  that 
she  now  planned  she  sought  out  her  friend  Lord  Hervey. 


128  NOTES 

John  Hervcy,  called  by  courtesy  Lord  Hervey,  the  second  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Bristol,  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  figures  at  the  court  of 
George  II.  He  had  been  made  vice-chamberlain  of  the  royal  household 
in  1 730,  and  was  the  intimate  friend  and  confidential  adviser  of  Queen 
Caroline.  Clever,  affable,  unprincipled,  and  cynical,  he  was  a  perfect 
type  of  the  Georgian  courtier  to  whom  loyalty,  patriotism,  honesty,  and 
honor  were  so  many  synonyms  for  folly.  He  was  effeminate  in  habits  and 
appearance,  but  notoriously  licentious;  he  affected  to  scoff  at  learning 
but  made  some  pretense  to  literature,  and  had  written  Four  Epistles  after 
the  Manner  of  Ovid,  and  numerous  political  pamphlets.  Pope,  who  had 
some  slight  personal  acquaintance  with  him,  disliked  his  political  connec- 
tions and  probably  despised  his  verses,  and  in  the  Imitation  already  men- 
tioned had  alluded  to  him  under  the  title  of  Lord  Fanny  as  capable  of 
turning  out  a  thousand  lines  of  verse  a  day.  This  was  sufficient  cause,  if 
cause  were  needed,  to  induce  Hervey  to  join  Lady  Mary  in  her  warfare 
against  Pope. 

The  first  blow  was  struck  in  an  anonymous  poem,  probably  the  com- 
bined work  of  the  two  allies,  called  Verses  addressed  to  the  Imitator  of 
Horace,  which  appeared  in  March,  1733,  and  it  was  followed  up  in  August 
by  an  Epistle  front  a  Nobleman  to  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  which  also  appeared 
anonjTTiously,  but  was  well  known  to  be  the  work  of  Lord  Hervey.  In 
these  poems  Pope  was  abused  in  the  most  unmeasured  terms.  His  work 
was  styled  a  mere  collection  of  libels ;  he  had  no  invention  except  in  defama- 
tion ;  he  was  a  mere  pretender  to  genius.  His  morals  were  not  left  un- 
impeached;  he  was  charged  with  selling  other  men's  work  printed  in  his 
name,  —  a  gross  distortion  of  his  employing  assistants  in  the  transla- 
tion of  the  Odyssey,  —  he  was  ungrateful,  unjust,  a  foe  to  human  kind,  an 
enemy  like  the  devil  to  all  that  have  being.  The  noble  authors,  probably 
well  aware  how  they  could  give  the  most  pain,  proceeded  to  attack  his 
family  and  his  distorted  person.  His  parents  were  obscure  and  vulgar 
people;  and  he  himself  a  wretched  outcast  — 

with  the  emblem  of  [his]  crooked  mind 
Marked  on  [his]  back  like  Cain  by  God's  own  hand. 

And  to  cap  the  climax,  as  soon  as  these  shameful  libels  were  in  print,  Lord 
Hervey  bustled  off  to  show  them  to  the  Queen  and  to  laugh  with  her  over 
the  fine  way  in  which  he  had  put  down  the  bitter  little  poet. 

In  order  to  understand  and  appreciate  Pope's  reception  of  these  attacks, 
we  must  recall  to  ourselves  the  position  in  which  he  lived.  He  was  a 
Catholic,  and  I  have  already  (Introduction,  p.  x)  called  attention  to  the 


NOTES 


129 


precarious  tenure  by  which  the  Catholics  of  his  time  held  their  goods, 
their  persons,  their  very  lives,  in  security.  He  was  the  intimate  of  Boling- 
broke,  of  all  men  living  the  most  detested  by  the  court,  and  his  noble 
friends  were  almost  without  exception  the  avowed  enemies  of  the  court 
party.  Pope  had  good  reason  to  fear  that  the  malice  of  his  enemies  might 
not  be  content  to  stop  with  abusive  doggerel.  But  he  was  not  in  the  least 
intimidated.  On  the  contrary,  he  broke  out  in  a  fine  flame  of  wrath  against 
Lord  Hervey,  whom  he  evidently  considered  the  chief  offender,  chal- 
lenged his  enemy  to  disavow  the  Epistle,  and  on  his  declining  to  do  so,  pro- 
ceeded to  make  what  he  called  "  a  proper  reply  "  in  a  prose  Letter  to  a 
Noble  Lord.  This  masterly  piece  of  satire  was  passed  about  from  hand  to 
hand,  but  never  printed.  We  are  told  that  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  who 
found  Hervey  a  convenient  tool  in  court  intrigues,  bribed  Pope  not  to 
print  it  by  securing  a  good  position  in  France  for  one  of  the  priests  who 
had  watched  over  the  poet's  youth.  If  this  story  be  true,  and  we  have 
Horace  Walpole's  authority  for  it,  we  may  well  imagine  that  the  entry 
of  the  bribe,  like  that  of  Uncle  Toby's  oath,  was  blotted  out  by  a  tear  from 
the  books  of  the  Recording  Angel. 

But  Pope  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  let  the  attacks  go  without  an 
answer  of  some  kind,  and  the  particular  form  which  his  answer  took  seems 
to  have  been  suggested  by  a  letter  from  Arbuthnot.  "  I  make  it  my  last 
request,"  wrote  his  beloved  physician,  now  sinking  fast  under  the  diseases 
that  brought  him  to  the  grave,  "  that  you  continue  that  noble  disdain  and 
abhorrence  of  vice,  which  you  seem  so  naturally  endued  with,  but  still 
with  a  due  regard  to  your  own  safety;  and  study  more  to  reform  than  to 
chastise,  though  the  one  often  cannot  be  effected  without  the  other." 
"  I  took  very  kindly  your  advice,"  Pope  replied,  ".  .  .  and  it  has  worked 
so  much  upon  me  considering  the  time  and  state  you  gave  it  in,  that  I 
determined  to  address  to  you  one  of  my  epistles  written  by  piecemeal 
many  years,  and  which  I  have  now  made  haste  to  put  together;  wherein 
the  question  is  stated,  what  were,  and  are  my  motives  of  writing,  the  ob- 
jections to  them,  and  my  answers."  In  other  words,  the  Epistle  to  Ar- 
buthnot which  we  see  that  Pope  was  working  over  at  the  date  of  this  letter, 
August  25,  1734,  was,  in  the  old-fashioned  phrase,  his  Apologia,  his  de- 
fense of  his  life  and  work. 

As  usual.  Pope's  account  of  his  work  cannot  be  taken  literally.  A 
comparison  of  dates  shows  that  the  Epistle  instead  of  having  been  "  writ- 
ten by  piecemeal  many  years  "  is  essentially  the  work  of  one  impulse,  the 
desire  to  vindicate  his  character,  his  parents,  and  his  work  from  the  asper- 


I30 


NOTES 


sions  cast  upon  them  by  Lord  Hervey  and  Lady  Mary.  The  exceptions 
to  this  statement  are  two,  or  possibly  three,  passages  which  we  know  to 
have  been  written  earlier  and  worked  into  the  poem  with  infinite  art. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  famous  portrait  of  Addison  as  Atticus.  I  have 
already  spoken  of  the  reasons  that  led  to  Pope's  breach  with  Addison 
(Introduction,  p.  xv);  and  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  this  por- 
trait sprang  directly  from  Pope's  bitter  feeling  toward  the  elder  writer 
for  his  preference  of  Tickell's  translation.  The  lines  were  certainly 
written  in  Addison's  lifetime,  though  we  may  be  permitted  to  doubt 
whether  Pope  really  did  send  them  to  him,  as  he  once  asserted.  They  did 
not  appear  in  print,  however,  till  four  years  after  Addison's  death,  when 
they  were  printed  apparently  without  Pope's  consent  in  a  volume  of  mis- 
cellanies. It  is  interesting  to  note  that  in  this  form  the  full  name  "Addi- 
son "  appeared  in  the  last  line.  Some  time  later  Pope  acknowledged  the 
verses  and  printed  them  with  a  few  changes  in  his  Miscellany  of  1727, 

substituting  the  more  decorous  "  A n  "  for  the  "  Addison  "  of  the  first 

text.  Finally  he  worked  over  the  passage  again  and  inserted  it,  for  a 
purpose  that  will  be  shown  later,  in  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  discuss  here  the  justice  or  injustice  of  this  fa- 
mous portrait.     In  fact,  the  question  hardly  deserves  to  be  raised.    The 
passage  is  admittedly  a  satire,  and  a  satire  makes  no  claim  to  be  a  just 
and  final  sentence.     Admitting,  as  we  must,  that  Pope  was  in  the  wrong 
in  his  quarrel  with  Addison,  we  may  well  admit  that  he  has  not  done  him 
full  justice.     But  we  must  equally  admit  that  the  picture  is  drawn  with 
wonderful  skill,  that  praise  and  blame  are  deftly  mingled,  and  that  the 
satire  is  all  the  more  severe  because  of  its  frank  admission  of  the  great 
man's  merits.     And  it  must  also  be  said  that  Pope  has  hit  off  some  of  the 
faults  of  Addison's  character,  —  his  coldness,  his  self-complacency,  his 
quiet  sneer,  his  indulgence  of  flattering  fools  — in  a  way  that  none  of  his 
biographers  have  done.    That  Pope  was  not  blind  to  Addison's  chief  merit 
as  an  author  is  fully  shown  by  a  passage  in  a  later  poem,  less  well  known 
than  the  portrait  of  Atticus,  but  well  worth  quotation.    After  speaking  of 
the  licentiousness  of  literature  in  Restoration  days,  he  goes  on  to  say:  — 
In  our  own  (excuse  some  courtly  stains) 
No  whiter  page  than  Addison's  remains. 
He  from  the  taste  obscene  reclaims  our  youth, 
And  sets  the  passions  on  the  side  of  truth, 
Forms  the  soft  bosom  with  the  gentlest  art, 
And  pours  each  human  virtue  in  the  heart. 

Epistle  to  Augustus,  II.  315-220. 


NOTES  131 

If  Pope  was  unjust  to  Addison  the  man,  he  at  least  made  amends  to  Addi- 
son the  moralist. 

The  second  passage  that  may  have  had  an  independent  existence  before 
the  Epistle  was  conceived  is  the  portrait  of  Bufo,  11.  229-247.  There 
is  reason  to  believe  that  this  attack  was  first  aimed  at  BubbDoddington,  a 
courtier  of  Hervey's  class,  though  hardly  of  so  finished  a  type,  to  whom 
Pope  alludes  as  Bubo  in  1.  278.  When  Pope  was  working  on  the  Epistle, 
however,  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  vindicate  his  own  independence  of 
patronage  by  a  satiric  portrait  of  the  great  Maecenas  of  his  younger  days, 
Lord  Halifax,  who  had  ventured  some  foolish  criticisms  on  Pope's  trans- 
lation of  the  Iliad,  and  seems  to  have  expected  that  the  poet  should 
dedicate  the  great  work  to  him  in  return  for  an  offer  of  a  pension  which  he 
made  and  Pope  declined.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  Pope  cher- 
ished any  very  bitter  resentment  toward  Halifax.  On  the  contrary,  in  a 
poem  published  some  years  after  the  Epistle  he  boasted  of  his  friendship 
with  Halifax,  naming  him  outright,  and  adding  in  a  note  that  the  noble 
lord  was  no  less  distinguished  by  his  love  of  letters  than  his  abilities  in 
Parliament. 

The  third  passage,  a  tender  reference  to  his  mother's  age  and  weakness, 
was  written  at  least  as  early  as  17,31, — Mrs.  Pope  died  in  1733,  —  and 
was  incorporated  in  the  Epistle  to  round  it  off  with  a  picture  of  the  poet 
absorbed  in  his  filial  duties  at  the  very  time  that  Hervey  and  Lady  Mary 
were  heaping  abuse  upon  him,  as  a  monster  devoid  of  all  good  qualities. 
And  now  having  discussed  the  various  insertions  in  the  Epistle,  let  us  look 
for  a  moment  at  the  poem  as  a  whole,  and  see  what  is  the  nature  of  Pope's 
defense  of  himself  and  of  his  reply  to  his  enemies. 

It  is  cast  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  the  poet  himself  and  Arbuth- 
not.  Pope  begins  by  complaining  of  the  misfortunes  which  his  reputation 
as  a  successful  man  of  letters  has  brought  upon  him.  He  is  a  mark  for 
all  the  starving  scribblers  of  the  town  who  besiege  him  for  advice,  recom- 
mendations, and  hard  cash.  Is  it  not  enough  to  make  a  man  write  Dun- 
ciads?  Arbuthnot  warns  him  against  the  danger  of  making  foes  (11.  loi- 
104),  but  Pope  replies  that  his  flatterers  are  even  more  intolerable  than  his 
open  enemies.  And  with  a  little  outburst  of  impatience,  such  as  we  may 
well  imagine  him  to  have  indulged  in  during  his  later  years,  he  cries  — 
Why  did  I  write  ?  What  sin  to  me  unknown 
Dipt  me  in  ink,  my  parents'  or  my  own  ? 

and  begins  with  1.  125  his  poetical  autobiography.     He  tells  of  his  first 
childish  efforts,  of  poetry  taken  up  "  to  help  me  thro'  this  long  disease  ray 


132  NOTES 

life,"  and  then  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  noble  and  famous  friends  who  had 
praised  his  early  work  and  urged  him  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  open  field 
of  letters.  He  speaks  of  his  first  poems,  the  Pastorals  and  Windsor 
Forest,  harmless  as  Hervey's  own  verses,  and  tells  how  even  then  critics 
like  Dennis  fell  foul  of  him.  Rival  authors  hated  him,  too,  especially 
such  pilfering  bards  as  PhiHps.  This  he  could  endure,  but  the  coldness 
and  even  jealousy  of  such  a  man  as  Addison  —  and  here  appears  the  fa- 
mous portrait  of  Atticus  —  was  another  matter,  serious  enough  to  draw 
tears  from  all  lovers  of  mankind. 

Passing  on  (1.  213)  to  the  days  of  his  great  success  when  his  Homer 
was  the  talk  of  the  town,  he  asserts  his  ignorance  of  all  the  arts  of  puffery 
and  his  independence  of  mutual  admiration  societies.  He  left  those  who 
wished  a  patron  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Halifax,  who  fed  fat  on  flattery 
and  repaid  his  flatterers  merely  with  a  good  word  or  a  seat  at  his  table. 
After  all,  the  poet  could  afford  to  lose  the  society  of  Bufo's  toadies  while 
such  a  friend  as  Gay  was  left  him  (1.  254). 

After  an  eloquent  expression  of  his  wish  for  independence  (11.  261- 
270),  he  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  babbling  friends  who  insist  that  he  is  al- 
ways meditating  some  new  satire,  and  persist  in  recognizing  some  wretched 
poetaster's  lampoon  as  his.  And  so  by  a  natural  transition  Pope  comes 
to  speak  of  his  own  satiric  poems  and  their  aims.  He  says,  and  rightly, 
that  he  has  never  attacked  virtue  or  innocence.  He  reserves  his  lash  for 
those  who  trample  on  their  neighbors  and  insult  "  fallen  worth,"  for  cold 
or  treacherous  friends,  liars,  and  babbling  blockheads.  Let  Sporus 
(Hervey)  tremble  (1.  303).  Arbuthnot interposes  herewith  an  ejaculation 
of  contemptuous  pity,  is  it  really  worth  the  poet's  while  to  castigate 
such  a  slight  thing  as  Hervey,  that  "  mere  white  curd  "  ?  But  Pope  has 
suffered  too  much  from  Hervey's  insolence  to  stay  his  hand,  and  he  now 
proceeds  to  lay  on  the  lash  with  equal  fury  and  precision,  drawing  blood  at 
every  stroke,  until  we  seem  to  see  the  wretched  fop  writhing  and  shrieking 
beneath  the  whip.  And  then  with  a  magnificent  transition  he  goes  on 
(U.  332-337)  to  draw  a  portrait  of  himself.  Here,  he  says  in  effect,  is  the 
real  man  that  Sporus  has  so  maligned.  The  portrait  is  idealized,  of  course; 
one  could  hardly  expect  a  poet  speaking  in  his  own  defense  in  reply  to 
venomous  attacks  to  dissect  his  own  character  with  the  stern  impar- 
tiality of  the  critics  of  the  succeeding  century,  but  it  is  in  all  essentials  a 
portrait  at  once  impressive  and  true. 

Arbuthnot  again  interrupts  (1.  358)  to  ask  why  he  spares  neither  the 
poor  nor  the  great  in  his  satire,  and  Pope  replies  that  he  hates  knaves  in 


NOTES  133 

every  rank  of  life.  Yet  by  nature,  he  insists,  he  is  of  an  easy  temper,  more 
readily  deceived  than  angered,  and  in  a  long  catalogue  of  instances  he 
illustrates  his  own  patience  and  good  nature  (11.  366-385).  It  must  be 
frankly  confessed  that  these  lines  do  not  ring  true.  Pope  might  in  the  heat 
of  argument  convince  himself  that  he  was  humble  and  slow  to  wrath,  but 
he  has  never  succeeded  in  convincing  his  readers. 

With  1. 382  Pope  turns  to  the  defense  of  his  family,  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
his  enemies  had  abused  as  base  and  obscure.  He  draws  a  noble  picture 
of  his  dead  father,  "  by  nature  honest,  by  experience  wise  "  simple,  mod- 
est, and  temperate,  and  passes  to  the  description  of  himself  watching  over 
the  last  years  of  his  old  mother,  his  sole  care  to 

Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye 
And  keep  a  while  one  parent  from  the  sky. 

If  the  length  of  days  which  Heaven  has  promised  those  who  honor  father 
and  mother  fall  to  his  lot,  may  Heaven  preserve  him  such  a  friend  as 
A'rbuthnot  to  bless  those  days.  And  Arbuthnot  closes  the  dialogue  with 
a  word  which  is  meant,  I  think,  to  sum  up  the  whole  discussion  and  to 
pronounce  the  verdict  that  Pope's  life  had  been  good  and  honorable. 
Whether  that  blessing  '  be  deny'd  or  giv'n, 
Thus  far  was  right,  the  rest  belongs  to  Heav'n. 

It  seems  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  the  merits  of  so  patent  a  master- 
piece as  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot.  In  order  to  enjoy  it  to  the  full,  indeed, 
one  must  know  something  of  the  life  of  the  author,  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  was  written,  and,  in  general,  of  the  social  and  political  life 
of  the  time.  But  even  without  this  special  knowledge  no  reader  can  fail 
to  appreciate  the  marvelous  ease,  fluency,  and  poignancy  of  this  admirable 
satire.  There  is  nothing  like  it  in  our  language  except  Pope's  other  satires, 
and  of  all  his  satires  it  is,  by  common  consent,  easily  the  first.  It  surpasses 
the  satiric  poetry  of  Dryden  in  pungency  and  depth  of  feeling  as  easily 
as  it  does  that  of  Byron  in  polish  and  artistic  restraint.  Its  range  of  tone 
is  remarkable.  At  times  it  reads  like  glorified  conversation,  as  in  the 
opening  lines;  at  times  it  flames  and  quivers  with  emotion,  as  in  the  as- 
sault on  Hervey,  or  in  the  defense  of  his  parents.  Even  in  the  limited 
field  of  satiric  portraiture  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the  manner 
In  which  Pope  has  drawn  the  portrait  of  Atticus  and  that  of  Sporus.  The 
latter  is  a  masterpiece  of  pure  invective ;   no  allowances  are  made,  no  lights 

'  /.  e.  the  blessing  of  Arbuthnot's  future  companionship,  for  which  Pope 
(1. 413)  had  just  prayed. 


134  NOTES 

relieve  the  darkness  of  the  shadows,  the  portrait  is  frankly  inhuman.     It 
is  the  product  of  an  unrestrained  outburst  of  bitter  passion.     The  por- 
trait of  Atticus,  on  the  other  hand,  was,  as  we  know,  the  work  of  years. 
It  is  the  product  not  of  an  outburst  of  fury,  but  of  a  slowly  growing  and  in- 
tense dislike,  which,  while  recognizing  the  merits  of  its  object,  fastened 
with  pecuHar  power  upon  his  faults  and  weaknesses.     The  studious  re- 
straint which  controls  the  satirist's  hand  makes  it  only  the  more  effec- 
tive.    We  know  well  enough  that  the  portrait  is  not  a  fair  one,  but  we 
are  forced  to  remind  ourselves  of  this  at  every  step  to  avoid  the  spell 
which  Pope's  apparent  impartiality  casts  over  our  judgments.    The  whole 
passage  reads  not  so  much  Uke  the  heated  plea  of  an  advocate  as  the 
measured  summing-up  of  a  judge,  and  the  last  couplet  falls  on  our  ears 
with  the  inevitability  of  a  final  sentence.     But  the  peculiar  merit  of  the 
Epistle  to  Arbuthnol  consists  neither  in  the  ease  and  polish  of  its  style, 
nor  in  the  vigor  and  effectiveness  of  its  satire,  but  in  the  insight  it  gives  us 
into  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  poet  himself.     It  presents  an  ideal  picture  of 
Pope,  the  man  and  the  author,  of  his  life,  his  friendships,  his  love  of  his 
parents,  his  literary  relationships  and  aims.   And  it  is  quite  futile  to  object, 
as  some  critics  have  done,  that  this  picture  is  not  exactly  in  accordance  with 
the  known  facts  of  Pope's  life.    No  great  man  can  be  tried  and  judged  on 
the  mere  record  of  his  acts.    We  must  know  the  circumstances  that  shaped 
these,  and  the  motives  that  inspired  them.     A  man's  ideals,  if  genuinely 
held  and  honestly  followed,  are  perhaps  even  more  valuable  contributions 
to  our  final  estimate  of  the  man  himself  than  all  he  did  or  left  undone. 

All  I  could  never  be, 

All,  men  ignored  in  me, 

This,  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped. 

And  in  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot  we  recognize  in  Pope  ideals  of  independ- 
ence, of  devotion  to  his  art,  of  simple  living,  of  loyal  friendship,  and  of 
filial  piety  which  shine  in  splendid  contrast  with  the  gross,  servile,  and 
cynically  immoral  tone  of  the  age  and  society  in  which  he  lived. 

ADVERTISEMENT 

Dr.  John  Arbuthnot,  one  of  Pope's  most  intimate  friends,  had  been 
physician  to  Queen  Anne,  and  was  a  man  of  letters  as  well  as  a  doctor. 
Arbuthnot,  Pope,  and  Swift  had  combined  to  get  out  a  volume  of  Miscel- 
lanies in  1737.  His  health  was  failing  rapidly  at  this  time,  and  he  died  a 
month  or  so  after  the  appearance  of  this  Epistle. 


NOTES  135 


EPISTLE 

1   John:    John  Searle,  Pope's  faithful  servant. 

4  Bedlam:  a  lunatic  asylum  in  London  in  Pope's  day.  Notice  how 
Pope  mentions,  in  the  same  breath,  Bedlam  and  Parnassus,  the  hill  of 
the  Aluses  which  poets  might  well  be  supposed  to  haunt. 

8  thickets:  the  groves  surrounding  Pope's  villa.  —  Grot:  see  Intro- 
duction, p.  xvii. 

10  the  chariot:  the  coach  in  which  Pope  drove.  —  the  barge:  the  boat 
in  which  Pope  was  rowed  upon  the  Thames. 

13  the  Mint:  a  district  in  London  where  debtors  were  free  from  arrest. 
As  they  could  not  be  arrested  anywhere  on  Sunday,  Pope  represents  them 
as  taking  that  day  to  inflict  their  visits  on  him. 

15  Parson:  probably  a  certain  Eusden,  who  had  some  pretensions  to 
letters,  but  who  ruined  himself  by  drink. 

17  Clerk:  a  law  clerk. 

18  engross:  write  legal  papers. 

19-20  An  imaginary  portrait  of  a  mad  poet  who  keeps  on  writing  verses 
even  in  his  cell  in  Bedlam.  Pope  may  have  been  thinking  of  Lee,  a 
dramatist  of  Dryden's  day  who  was  confined  for  a  time  in  this  asylum. 

23  Arthur:  Arthur  Moore,  a  member  of  Parliament  for  some  years 
and  well  known  in  London  society.  His  "giddy  son,"  James  Moore,  who 
took  the  name  of  Moore  Smythe,  dabbled  in  letters  and  was  a  bitter 
enemy  of  Pope. 

25  Cornus:  Robert  Lord  Walpole,  whose  wife  deserted  him  in  1734. 
Horace  Walpole  speaks  of  her  as  half  mad. 

31  sped:  done  for. 

40  Pope's  counsel  to  delay  the  pubHcation  of  the  works  read  to  him  is 
borrowed  from  Horace:  "nonumque  prematur  in  annum"  (Ars  Poetica, 
388). 

41  Drury-lane,  like  Grub  Street,  a  haunt  of  poor  authors  at  this  time. 
43  before  Term  ends:   before  the  season  is  over;  that  is,  as  soon  as  the 

poem  is  written. 

48  a  Prologue:  for  a  play.  Of  course  a  prologue  by  the  famous  Mr. 
Pope-  would  be  of  great  value  to  a  poor  and  unknown  dramatist. 

49  Pitholeon:  the  name  of  a  foolish  poet  mentioned  by  Horace.  Pope 
uses  it  here  for  his  enemy  Welsted,  mentioned  in  1.  373.  —  his  Grace:  the 
title  given  a  Duke  in  Great  Britain.    The  Duke  here  referred  to  is  said 


136  NOTES 

to  be  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  one  of  the  most  influential  of  the  great  Whig 
lords. 

53  Curll:  a  notorious  publisher  of  the  day,  and  an  enemy  of  Pope. 
The  implication  is  that  if  Pope  will  not  grant  Pitholeon's  request,  the 
latter  will  accept  Curll's  invitation  and  concoct  a  new  libel  against  the 
poet. 

60  Pope  was  one  of  the  few  men  of  letters  of  his  day  who  had 
not  written  a  play,  and  he  was  at  this  time  on  bad  terms  with  certain 
actors. 

62  Bernard  Lintot,  the  publisher  of  Pope's  translation  of  Homer. 

66  go  snacks:  share  the  profits.  Pope  represents  the  unknown 
dramatist  as  trying  to  bribe  him  to  give  a  favorable  report  of  the  play. 

69  Midas:  an  old  legend  tells  us  that  Midas  was  presented  with  a  pair 
of  ass's  ears  by  an  angry  god  whose  music  he  had  slighted.  His  barber, 
or,  Chaucer  says,  his  queen,  discovered  the  change  which  Midas  had  tried 
to  conceal,  and  unable  to  keep  the  secret  whispered  it  to  the  reeds  in 
the  river,  who  straightway  spread  the  news  abroad. 

75  With  this  line  Arbuthnot  is  supposed  to  take  up  the  conversation. 
This  is  indicated  here  and  elsewhere  by  the  letter  A. 

79  Dunciad:    see  Introduction,  p.  xviii. 

85  Codrus:  a  name  borrowed  from  Juvenal  to  denote  a  foolish  poet. 
Pope  uses  it  here  for  some  conceited  dramatist  who  thinks  none  the  less 
of  himself  because  his  tragedy  is  rejected  with  shouts  of  laughter. 

96  Explain  the  exact  meaning  of  this  line. 

97  Bavius:  a  stock  name  for  a  bad  poet.  See  note  on  Essay  on 
Criticism,  1.  34. 

98  Philips:  Ambrose  Philips,  author  among  other  things  of  a  set 
of  Pastorals  that  appeared  in  the  same  volume  with  Pope,  1709.  Pope 
and  he  soon  became  bitter  enemies.  He  was  patronized  by  a  Bishop 
Boulter. 

99  Sappho:  Here  as  elsewhere  Pope  uses  the  name  of  the  Greek 
poetess  for  his  enemy.  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague. 

109  Grubstreet:  a  wretched  street  in  London,  inhabited  in  Pope's 
day  by  hack  writers,  most  of  whom  were  his  enemies. 

Ill  Curll  (see  note  to  1.  53)  had  printed  a  number  of  Pope's  letters 
without  the  poet's  consent  some  years  before  this  poem  was  written. 

113-122  Pope  here  describes  the  flatterers  who  were  foolish  enough 
to  pay  him  personal  compliments.  They  compare  him  to  Horace  who 
was  short  like  Pope,  though  fat,  and  who  seems  to  have  suffered  from 


NOTES  137 

colds;  also  to  Alexander,  one  of  whose  shoulders  was  higher  than  the 
other,  and  to  Ovid,  whose  other  name,Naso,  might  indicate  that  long  noses 
were  a  characteristic  feature  of  his  family.  Pope  really  had  large  and 
beautiful  eyes.    Maro,  1.  122,  is  Virgil. 

123  With  this  hne  Pope  begins  an  account  of  his  life  as  a  poet.  For 
his  precocity,  see  Introduction,  p.  xii. 

129  ease:  amuse,  entertain.  —  friend,  not  Wife:  the  reference  is, 
perhaps,  to  Martha  Blount,  Pope's  friend,  and  may  have  been  meant  as  a 
contradiction  of  his  reported  secret   marriage   to  her. 

132  to  bear:   to  endure  the  pains  and  troubles  of  an  invalid's  Ufe. 

133  Granville:  George  Granville,  Lord  Lansdowne,  a  poet  and  patron 
of  letters  to  whom  Pope  had  dedicated  his  Windsor  Forest. 

134  Walsh:    see  note  on  Essay  on  Criticism,  1.  729. 

135  Garth  :  Sir  Samuel  Garth,  like  Arbuthnot,  a  doctor,  a  man  of 
letters,  and  an  early  friend  of  Pope. 

137  Charles  Talbot,  Duke  of  Shrewsbury;  John,  Lord  Somers;  and 
John  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckingham ;  all  leading  statesmen  and  patrons 
of  Hterature  in  Queen  Anne's  day. 

138  Rochester:  Francis  Atterbury,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  an  intimate 
friend  of  Pope. 

139  St.  John:  BoHngbroke.  For  Pope's  relations  with  him,  see 
introduction  to  the  Essay  on  Man,  p.  116. 

143  Gilbert  Burnet  and  John  Oldmixon  had  written  historical  works 
from  the  Whig  point  of  view.  Roger  Cooke,  a  now  forgotten  writer,  had 
published  a  Detection  of  the  Court  and  State  of  England.  Pope  in  a 
note  on  this  line  calls  them  all  three  authors  of  secret  and  scandalous 
history. 

146  The  reference  is  to  Pope's  early  descriptive  poems,  the  Pastorals 
and  Windsor  Forest. 

147  gentle  Fanny's:  a  sneer  at  Lord  Hervey's  verses.  See  the  intro- 
duction to  this  poem,  p.  126. 

149  Gildon :  a  critic  of  the  time  who  had  repeatedly  attacked  Pope. 
The  poet  told  Spence  that  he  had  heard  Addison  gave  Gildon  ten  pounds 
to  slander  him. 

161  Dennis:    see  note  on  Essay  on  Criticism.  1.  270. 

166  kiss'd  the  rod:  Pope  was  sensible  enough  to  profit  by  the  criti- 
cisms even  of  his  enemies.  He  corrected  several  passages  in  the  Essay 
on  Criticism  which  Dennis  had  properly  found  fault  with. 

162  Bentley:   the  most  famous  scholar  of  Pope's  day.     Pope  disliked 


138  NOTES 

him  because  of  his  criticism  of  the  poet's  translation  of  the  Iliad,  "  good 
verses,  but  not  Homer."  The  epithet  "slashing"  refers  to  Bentley's 
edition  of  Paradise  Lost  in  which  he  altered  and  corrected  the  poet's  text 
to  suit  his  own  ideas.  ^  Tibbalds :  Lewis  Theobald  (pronounced  Tib- 
bald),  a  scholar  who  had  attacked  Pope's  edition  of  Shakespeare. 
Pope  calls  him  "piddling"  because  of  his  scrupulous  attention  to 
details. 

177  The  Bard:  Philips,  see  note  on  1.  98.  Pope  claimed  that  Phil- 
ips's  Pastorals  were  plagiarized  from  Spenser,  and  other  poets.  Philips, 
also,  translated  some  Persian  Tales  for  the  low  figure  of  half  a  crown 
apiece. 

187  bade  translate:  suggested  that  they  translate  other  men's  work, 
since  ihcy  could  write  nothing  valuable  of  their  own. 

188  Tate:  a  poetaster  of  the  generation  before  Pope.  He  is  remem- 
bered as  the  part  author  of  a  doggerel  version  of  the  Psalms. 

191-212  For  a  discussion  of  this  famous  passage,  see  introduction  to 
the  Epistle    p.   130. 

196  the  Turk:  it  was  formerly  the  practice  for  a  Turkish  monarch 
when  succeeding  to  the  throne  to  have  all  his  brothers  murdered  so  as  to 
do  away  -nath  possible  rivals. 

199  faint  praise:  Addison  was  hearty  enough  when  he  cared  to  praise 
his  friends.  Pope  is  thinking  of  the  coldness  with  which  Addison  treated 
his  Pastorals  as  compared  to  those  of  Philips. 

206  oblig'd:  note  the  old-fashioned  pronunciation  to  rhyme  with 
"  besieged." 

207  Cato:  an  unmistakable  allusion  to  Addison's  tragedy  in  which 
the  famous  Roman  appears  laying  down  the  law  to  the  remnants  of  the 
Senate. 

209  Templars:  students  of  law  at  the  "Temple"  in  London  who 
prided  themselves  on  their  good  taste  in  Hterature.  A  body  of  them  came 
on  purpose  to  applaud  Cato  on  the  first  night. — raise:  exalt,  praise. 

211-212  laugh  .  .  .  weep:  explain  the  reason  for  these  actions. — 
Atticus:   Addison's  name  was  given  in  the  first  version  of  this  passage. 

Then  it  was  changed  to  "A n."    Addison  had  been  mentioned  in  the 

Spectator  (No.  150)  under  the  name  of  Atticus  as  "  in  every  way  one  of 
the  greatest  geniuses  the  age  has  produced." 

213  rubric  on  the  walls:  Lintot,  Pope's  old  publisher,  used  to  stick 
up  the  titles  of  new  books  in  red  letters  on  the  walls  of  his  shop. 

214  with  claps:    with  clap-bills,  posters. 


NOTES  139 

215  smoking:    hot  from  the  press. 

220  George:  George  II,  king  of  England  at  this  time.  His  indiffer- 
ence to  literature  was  notorious. 

228  Bufo:  the  picture  of  a  proud  but  grudging  patron  of  letters  which 
follows  was  first  meant  for  Bubb  Doddington,  a  courtier  and  patron  of 
letters  at  the  time  the  poem  was  written.  In  order  to  connect  it  more 
closely  with  the  time  of  which  he  was  writing,  Pope  added  11.  243-246, 
which  pointed  to  Charles  Montague,  Earl  of  Halifax.  Halifax  was 
himself  a  poet  and  affected  to  be  a  great  patron  of  poetry,  but  his 
enemies  accused  him  of  only  giving  his  clients  "  good  words  and  good 
dinners."  Pope  tells  an  amusing  story  of  Montague's  comments  on  his 
translation  of  the  Iliad  (Spence,  Anecdotes,  p.  134).  But  Halifax  sub- 
scribed for  ten  copies  of  the  translation,  so  that  Pope,  at  least,  could 
not  complain  of  his  lack  of  generosity.  —  Castalian  state:  the  kingdom 
of  poets. 

232  His  name  was  coupled  with  that  of  Horace  as  a  poet  and  critic. 

234  Pindar  without  a  head:  some  headless  statue  which  Bufo  insisted 
was  a  genuine  classic  figure  of  Pindar,  the  famous  Greek  lyric  poet. 

237  his  seat:    his  country  seat. 

242  paid  in  kind:    What  does  this  phrase  mean? 

243  Dryden  died  in  1700.  He  had  been  poor  and  obliged  to  worl 
hard  for  a  hving  in  his  last  years,  but  hardly  had  to  starve.  Halifax 
offered  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his  funeral  and  contribute  five  hundred 
pounds  for  a  monument,  and  Pope  not  unreasonably  suggests  that  some 
of  this  bounty  might  have  been  bestowed  on  Dryden  in  his  hfetime. 

249  When  a  politician  wants  a  writer  to  put  in  a  day's  work  in  de- 
fending him.  Walpole,  for  example,  who  cared  nothing  for  poetry, 
spent  large  sums  in  retaining  writers  to  defend  him  in  the  journals 
and  pamphlets  of  the  day. 

254  John  Gay,  the  author  of  some  very  entertaining  verses,  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  Pope.  On  account  of  some  supposed  satirical 
allusions  his  opera  Polly  was  refused  a  license,  and  when  his  friends,  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  of  Queensberry  (see  1.  260)  solicited  subscriptions  for 
it  in  the  palace,  they  were  driven  from  the  court.  Gay  died  in  1732, 
and  Pope  wrote  an  epitaph  for  his  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is 
to  this  that  he  alludes  in  1.  258. 

274  Balbus  is  said  to  mean  the  Earl  of  Kinnoul,  at  one  time  an 
acquaintance  of  Pope  and  Swift. 

278  Sir  William   Yonge,   a  Whig   politician   whom   Pope   disliked. 


I40  NOTES 

He  seems  to  have  written  occasional  verses.     Bubo  is  Bubb  Doddington 
(see  note  on  1.  230). 

297-298  In  the  Fourth  Moral  Essay,  published  in  1731  as  an  Epistle 
to  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  Pope  had  given  a  satirical  description  of  a 
nobleman's  house  and  grounds,  adorned  and  laid  out  at  vast  expense; 
but  in  bad  taste.  Certain  features  of  this  description  were  taken  from 
Canons,  the  splendid  country  place  of  the  Duke  of  Chandos,  and  the 
duke  was  at  once  identified  by  a  scandal-loving  public  with  the  Timon  of 
the  poem.  In  the  description  Pope  speaks  of  the  silver  bell  which  calls 
worshipers  to  Timor's  chapel,  and  of  the  soft  Dean  preaching  there 
"  who  never  mentions  Hell  to  ears  polite."  In  this  passage  of  the  Epistle 
to  ArbiUhnot  he  is  protesting  against  the  people  who  swore  that  they  could 
identify  the  bell  and  the  Dean  as  belonging  to  the  chapel  at  Canons. 

303  Sporus:  a  favorite  of  Nero,  used  here  for  Lord  Hervey.  See  in- 
troduction to  this  poem,  p.  128. 

304  ass's  milk:  Hervey  was  obliged  by  bad  health  to  keep  a  strict 
diet,  and  a  cup  of  ass's  milk  was  his  daily  drink. 

308  painted  child:  Hervey  was  accustomed  to  paint  his  face  like  a 
woman. 

317-319  Pope  is  thinking  of  Milton's  striking  description  of  Satan 
"squat  Uke  a  toad"  by  the  ear  of  the  sleeping  Eve  {Paradise  Lost, 
IV,  800).  In  this  passage  "  Eve  "  refers  to  Queen  Caroline  with  whom 
Hervey  was  on  intimate  terms.  It  is  said  that  he  used  to  have  a  seat 
in  the  queen's  hunting  chaise  "  where  he  sat  close  behind  her  perched 
at  her  ear." 

322  now  master  up,  now  miss:  Pope  borrowed  this  telling  phrase 
from  a  pamphlet  against  Hervey  written  by  Pulteney,  a  political  opponent, 
in  which  the  former  is  called  "  a  pretty  little  master-miss." 

326  the  board:  the  Council  board  where  Hervey  sat  as  member  of 
the  Privy  Council. 

328-329  An  allusion  to  the  old  pictures  of  the  serpent  in  Eden  with 
a  snake's  body  and  a  woman's,  or  angel's,  face. 

330  parts:    talents,  natural  gifts. 

338-339  An  allusion  to  Pope's  abandoning  the  imaginative  topics 
to  his  early  poems,  as  the  Pastorals  and  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  and  turn- 
ing to  didactic  verse  as  in  the  Essay  on  Man,  and  the  Moral  Epistles. 

347  An  allusion  to  a  story  circulated,  in  an  abusive  pamphlet  called 
A  Pop  upon  Pope,  that  the  poet  had  been  whipped  for  his  satire  and  that 
be  had  cried  like  a  child. 


NOTES  141 

349  Dull  and  scandalous  poems  printed  under  Pope's  name,  or  attrib- 
uted to  him  by  his  enemies. 

351  the  pictur'd  shape:  Pope  was  especially  hurt  by  the  caricatures 
which  exaggerated  his  personal  deformity. 

353  A  friend  in  exile:  probably  Bishop  Atterbury,  then  in  exile  for 
his  Jacobite  opinions. 

354-355  Another  reference  to  Hervey  who  was  suspected  of  poison- 
ing the  mind  of  the  King  against  Pope. 

361  Japhet:  Japhet  Crooke,  a  notorious  forger  of  the  time.  He  died 
in  prison  in  1734,  after  having  had  his  nose  slit  and  ears  cropped  for  his 
crimes;    see  below,  1.  365. 

363  Knight  of  the  post:  a  slang  term  for  a  professional  witness  ready 
to  swear  to  anything  for  money.  A  knight  of  the  shire,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  the  representative  of  a  county  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

367  bit:  tricked,  taken  in,  a  piece  of  Queen  Anne  slang.  The  allu- 
sion is  probably  to  the  way  in  which  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague 
allowed  Pope  to  make  love  to  her  and  then  laughed  at  him. 

369  friend  to  his  distress :  in  1733,  when  old  Dennis  was  in  great  poverty, 
a  play  was  performed  for  his  benefit,  for  which  Pope  obligingly  wrote  a 
prologue. 

371  CoUey  Cibber,  actor  and  poet  laureate.  Pope  speaks  as  if  it  were 
an  act  of  condescension  for  him  to  have  drunk  with  Cibber.  —  Moore: 
James  Moore  Smythe  (see  note  on  1.  23),  whom  Pope  used  to  meet  at  the 
house  of  the  Blounts.  He  wrote  a  comedy,  The  Rival  Modes,  in  which 
he  introduced  six  lines  that  Pope  had  written.  Pope  apparently  had 
given  him  leave  to  do  so,  and  then  retracted  his  permission.  But 
Moore  used  them  without  the  permission  and  an  undignified  quarrel 
arose  as  to  the  true  authorship  of  the  passage. 

373  Welsted,  a  hack  writer  of  the  day,  had  falsely  charged  Pope  with 
being  responsible  for  the  death  of  the  lady  who  is  celebrated  in  Pope's 
Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  an    Unfortunate  Lady. 

374-375  There  is  an  allusion  here  that  has  never  been  fully  explained. 
Possibly  the  passage  refers  to  Teresa  Blount  whom  Pope  suspected  ol 
having  circulated  slanderous  reports  concerning  his  relations  with  her 
sister. 

376-377  Suffered  Budgell  to  attribute  to  his  (Pope's)  pen  the  slander- 
ous gossip  of  the  Grub  Street  Journal,  —  a  paper  to  which  Pope  did,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  contribute  —  and  let  him  (Budgell)  write  anything  he 
pleased  except  his  (Pope's)  will.     Budgell,  a  distant  cousin  of  Addison's, 


142  NOTES 

fi'll  into  bad  habits  after  his  friend's  death.  He  was  strongly  suspected 
of  having  forged  a  will  by  which  Dr.  Tindal  of  Oxford  left  him  a  consider- 
able ."^um  of  money.     He  finally  drowned  himself  in  the  Thames. 

378  the  two  Curlls:  Curll,  the  bookseller,  and  Lord  Hervey  whom 
Pope  here  couples  with  him  because  of  Hervey's  vulgar  abuse  of  Pope's 
personal  deformities  and  obscure  parentage. 

380  Yet  why:  Why  should  they  abuse  Pope's  inoffensive  parents? 
Compare  the  following  Hnes. 

383  Moore's  own  mother  was  suspected  of  loose  conduct. 

386  388  Of  gentle  blood  .  .  .  each  parent:  Pope  asserted,  perhaps 
incorrectly,  that  his  father  belonged  to  a  gentleman's  family,  the  head  of 
which  was  the  Earl  of  Downe.  His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  York- 
shire gentleman,  who  lost  two  sons  in  the  service  of  Charles  I  (cf.  1.  386). 

389  Bestia:  probably  the  elder  Horace  Walpole,  who  was  in  receipt 
of  a  handsome  pension. 

391  An  allusion  to  Addison's  unhappy  marriage  with  the  Countess 
of  Warwick. 

393  The  good  man:  Pope's  father,  who  as  a  devout  Roman  Catholic 
refused  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  (cf.  1.  395),  or  risk  the  equivocations 
.sanctioned  by  the  "  schoolmen,"  i.e.  the  Catholic  casuists  of  the  day 
(1.  398). 

404  Friend:   Arbuthnot,  to  whom  the  epistle  is  addressed. 

405^11  The  first  draft  of  these  appeared  in  a  letter  to  Aaron  Hill, 
September  3,  1731,  where  Pope  speaks  of  having  sent  them  "  the  other  day 
to  a  particular  friend,"  perhaps  the  pcet  Thomson.  Mrs.  Pope,  who 
was  very  old  and  feeble,  was  of  course  alive  when  they  were  first  written, 
but  died  more  than  a  year  before  the  passage  appeared  in  its  revised 
form  in  this  Epistle. 

412  .\n  allusion  to  the  promise  contained  in  the  fifth  commandment. 

415  served  a  Queen:  Arbuthnot  had  been  Queen  Anne's  doctor,  but 
wa=  driven  out  of  his  rooms  in  the  palace  after  her  death. 

416  that  blessing:  long  life  for  Arbuthnot.  It  was,  in  fact,  denied, 
for  he  died  a  month  or  so  after  the  appearance  of  the  Epistle. 

ODE  ON   SOLITUDE 

Pope  says  that  this  delightful  little  poem  was  written  at  the  early  age 
of  twelve.  It  first  appeared  in  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Henry  Cromwell, 
dated  July  17,  1709.  There  are  several  variations  between  this  first  form 


NOTES  143 

and  that  in  which  it  was  finally  published,  and  it  is  probable  that  Pope 
thought  enough  of  his  boyish  production  to  subject  it  to  repeated  revision. 
Its  spirit  is  characteristic  of  a  side  of  Pope's  nature  that  is  often  for- 
gotten. He  was,  indeed,  the  poet  of  the  society  of  his  day,  urban,  cul- 
tured, and  pleasure-loving;  but  to  the  end  of  his  days  he  retained  a 
love  for  the  quiet  charm  of  country  iife  which  he  had  come  to  feel  in 
his  boyhood  at  Binfield,  and  for  which  he  early  withdrew  from  the  whirl 
and  dissipations  of  London  to  the  groves  and  the  grotto  of  his  villa  at 
Twickenham. 

THE  DESCENT  OF  DULLNESS 

In  the  fourth  book  of  the  Dunciad,  Pope  abandons  the  satire  on  the 
pretenders  to  literary  fame  which  had  run  through  the  earUer  books,  and 
flies  at  higher  game.  He  represents  the  Goddess  Dullness  as  "coming 
in  her  majesty  to  destroy  Order  and  Science,  and  to  substitute  the  King- 
dom of  the  Dull  upon  earth."  He  attacks  the  pedantry  and  formalism 
of  university  education  in  his  day,  the  dissipation  and  false  taste  of  the 
traveled  gentry,  the  foolish  pretensions  to  learning  of  collectors  and 
virtuosi,  and  the  daringly  irreverent  speculations  of  freethinkers  and 
infidels.  At  the  close  of  the  book  he  represents  the  Goddess  as  dis- 
missing her  worshipers  with  a  speech  which  she  concludes  with  "  a 
yawn  of  extraordinary  virtue."  Under  its  influence  "  all  nature  nods," 
and  pulpits,  colleges,  and  Parliament  succumb.  The  poem  closes  with 
the  magnificent  description  of  the  descent  of  Dullness  and  her  final 
conquest  of  art,  philosophy,  and  religion.  It  is  said  that  Pope  himself 
admired  these  lines  so  much  that  he  could  not  repeat  them  without  his 
voice  faltering  with  emotion.  "  And  well  it  might,  sir,"  said  Dr.  Johnson 
when  this  anecdote  was  repeated  to  him,  "for  they  are  noble  fines." 
And  Thackeray  in  his  lecture  on  Pope  in  The  English  Humorists  says: 
"  In  these  astonishing  fines  Pope  reaches,  I  think,  to  the  very  greatest 
height  which  his  sublime  art  has  attained,  and  shows  himself  the  equal 
of  all  poets  of  all  times.  It  is  the  brightest  ardor,  the  loftiest  assertion 
of  truth,  the  most  generous  wisdom,  illustrated  by  the  noblest  poetic 
figure,  and  spoken  in  words  the  aptest,  grandest,  and  most  harmonious." 


144  NOTES 


EPITAPH   ON  GAY 

John  Gay,  the  idlest,  best-natured,  and  best-loved  man  of  letters  of 
his  day,  was  the  special  friend  of  Pope.  His  early  work,  The  Shep- 
herd's Week,  was  planned  as  a  parody  on  the  Pastorals  of  Pope's  rival, 
Ambrose  Philips,  and  Pope  assisted  him  in  the  composition  of  his  luck- 
less farce,  Three  Hours  after  Marriage.  When  Gay's  opera  Polly  was 
forbidden  by  the  licenser,  and  Gay's  patrons,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Queensberry,  were  driven  from  court  for  soliciting  subscriptions  for  him, 
Pope  warmly  espoused  his  cause.  Gay  died  in  1732  and  was  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  Pope's  epitaph  for  his  tomb  was  first  published  in 
the  quarto  edition  of  Pope's  works  in  1735.  Johnson,  in  his  discussion 
of  Pope's  epitaphs  ( Lives  of  the  Poets) ,  devotes  a  couple  of  pages  of 
somewhat  captious  criticism  to  these  lines;  but  they  have  at  least  the 
virtue  of  simplicity  and  sincerity,  and  are  at  once  an  admirable  portrait 
of  the  man  and  a  lasting  tribute  to  the  poet  Gay. 


APPENDIX 
THE  RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK 

Nolueram,  Belinda,  tuos  violarc  capillos 

Sed  juvat,  hoc  precibus  me  tribuisse  tuis.  —  Mart. 

FIRST  EDITION 


THE  RAPE   OF  THE  LOCK 
CANTO   I 

What  dire  offence  from  am'rous  causes  springs, 

What  mighty  quarrels  rise  from  trivial  things, 

I  sing  —  This  verse  to  C — 1,  Muse  !   is  due : 

This,  ev'n  Belinda  may  vouchsafe  to  view: 

Slight  is  the  subject,  but  not  so  the  praise,  5 

If  she  inspire,  and  he  approve  my  lays. 

Say  what  strange  motive,  goddess !   could  compel 
A  well-bred  lord  t'  assault  a  gentle  belle? 
O  say  what  stranger  cause,  yet  unexplored. 
Could  make  a  gentle  belle  reject  a  lord  ?  lo 

And  dwells  such  rage  in  softest  bosoms  then, 
And  lodge  such  daring  souls  in  little  men? 

Sol  through  white  curtains  did  his  beams  display, 
And  ope'd  those  eyes  which  brighter  shine  than  they. 
Shock  just  had  giv'n  himself  the  rousing  shake,  15 

And  nymphs  prepared  their  chocolate  to  take; 
Thrice  the  wrought  slipper  knocked  against  the  ground. 
And  striking  watches  the  tenth  hour  resound. 
Belinda  rose,  and  midst  attending  dames. 
Launched  on  the  bosom  of  the  silver  Thames:  30 

A  train  of  well-dressed  youths  around  her  shone. 
And  ev'ry  eye  was  fixed  on  her  alone: 
On  her  white  breast  a  sparkling  cross  she  wore 
Which  Jews  might  kiss  and  infidels  adore. 
Her  lively  looks  a  sprightly  mind  disclose,  25 

147 


148  APPENDIX 

Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfixed  as  those : 

Favours  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends ; 

Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 

Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike, 

And,  Hke  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  alike.  3° 

Yet  graceful  ease,  and  sweetness  void  of  pride. 

Might  hide  her  faults,  if  belles  had  faults  to  hide: 

If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall. 

Look  on  her  face,  and  you'll  forgive  'em  all. 

This  nymph,  to  the  destruction  of  mankind,  35 

Nourished  two  locks,  which  graceful  hung  behind 
In  equal  curls,  and  well  conspired  to  deck 
With  shining  ringlets  her  smooth  iv'ry  neck. 
Love  in  these  labyrinths  his  slaves  detains. 
And  mighty  hearts  are  held  in  slender  chains.  40 

With  hairy  springes  we  the  birds  betray, 
Slight  lines  of  hair  surprise  the  finny  prey. 
Fair  tresses  man's  imperial  race  insnare. 
And  beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair. 

Th'  adventurous  baron  the  bright  locks  admired ;  4S 

He  saw,  he  wished,  and  to  the  prize  aspired. 
Resolved  to  win,  he  meditates  the  way. 
By  force  to  ravish,  or  by  fraud  betray; 
For  when  success  a  lover's  toil  attends, 
Few  ask  if  fraud  or  force  attained  his  ends.  5° 

For  this,  ere  Phoebus  rose,  he  had  implored 
Propitious  heav'n,  and  every  pow'r  adored. 
But  chiefly  Love  —  to  Love  an  altar  built. 
Of  twelve  vast  French  romances,  neatly  gilt. 
There  lay  the  sword-knot  Sylvia's  hands  had  sewn  55 

With  Flavia's  busk  that  oft  had  wrapped  his  own: 
A  fan,  a  garter,  half  a  pair  of  gloves, 
And  all  the  trophies  of  his  former  loves. 


APPENDIX  149 

With  tender  billets-doux  he  lights  the  pire, 

And  breathes  three  am'rous  sighs  to  raise  the  fire.  60 

Then  prostrate  falls,  and  begs  with  ardent  eyes 

Soon  to  obtain,  and  long  possess  the  prize: 

The  pow'rs  gave  ear,  and  granted  half  his  pray'r, 

The  rest  the  winds  dispersed  in  empty  air. 

Close  by  those  meads,  for  ever  crowned  with  flow'rs,  65 

Where  Thames  with  pride  surveys  his  rising  tow'rs, 
There  stands  a  structure  of  majestic  frame, 
Which  from  the  neighb'ring  Hampton  takes  its  name. 
Here  Britain's  statesmen  oft  the  fall  foredoom 
Of  foreign  tyrants,  and  of  nymphs  at  home;  70 

Here  thou,  great  Anna !   whom  three  realms  obey, 
Dost  sometimes  counsel  take  —  and  sometimes  tea. 

Hither  our  nymphs  and  heroes  did  resort, 
To  taste  awhile  the  pleasures  of  a  court ; 
In  various  talk  the  cheerful  hours  they  passed,  75 

Of  who  was  bit,  or  who  capotted  last ; 
This  speaks  the  glory  of  the  British  queen, 
And  that  describes  a  charming  Indian  screen; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes; 
At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies.  80 

Snuff,  or  the  fan,  supply  each  pause  of  chat, 
With  singing,  laughing,  ogling,  and  all  that. 

Now  when,  declining  from  the  noon  of  day, 
The  sun  obliquely  shoots  his  burning  ray; 
When  hungry  judges  soon  the  sentence  sign,  85 

And  wretches  hang  that  jurymen  may  dine; 
When  merchants  from  th'  Exchange  return  in  peace. 
And  the  long  labours  of  the  toilet  cease, 
The  board's  with  cups  and  spoons,  alternate,  crowned, 
The  berries  crackle,  and  the  mill  turns  round ;  90 

On  shining  altars  of  Japan  they  raise 


150  APPENDIX 

The  silver  lamp,  and  fiery  spirits  blaze: 

From  silver  spouts  the  grateful  liquors  glide, 

While  China's  earth  receives  the  smoking  tide. 

At  once  they  gratify  their  smell  and  taste,  95 

While  frequent  cups  prolong  the  rich  repast. 

Coffee  (which  makes  the  politician  wise, 

And  see  through  all  things  with  his  half-shut  eyes) 

Sent  up  in  vapours  to  the  baron's  brain 

New  stratagems,  the  radiant  lock  to  gain.  100 

Ah  cease,  rash  youth !   desist  ere  't  is  too  late, 

Fear  the  just  gods,  and  think  of  Scylla's  fate ! 

Changed  to  a  bird,  and  sent  to  flit  in  air, 

She  dearly  pays  for  Nisus'  injured  hair ! 

But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  mind,  105 

How  soon  fit  instruments  of  ill  they  find ! 
Just  then,  Clarissa  drew  with  tempting  grace 
A  two-edged  weapon  from  her  shining  case: 
So  ladies,  in  romance,  assist  their  knight, 
Present  the  spear,  and  arm  him  for  the  fight;  no 

He  takes  the  gift  with  rev'rence,  and  extends 
The  little  engine  on  his  fingers'  ends; 
This  just  behind  Belinda's  neck  he  spread, 
As  o'er  the  fragrant  steams  she  bends  her  head. 
He  first  expands  the  glitt'ring  forfex  wide  115 

T'  enclose  the  lock;   then  joins  it,  to  divide; 
One  fatal  stroke  the  sacred  hair  does  sever 
From  the  fair  head,  for  ever,  and  for  ever ! 

The  living  fires  come  flashing  from  her  eyes, 
And  screams  of  horror  rend  th'  affrighted  skies.  i2(/ 

Not  louder  shrieks  by  dames  to  heav'n  are  cast, 
When  husbands  die,  or  lapdogs  breathe  their  last ; 
Or  when  rich  china  vessels,  fall'n  from  high, 
In  glitt'ring  dust  and  painted  fragments  lie ! 


APPENDIX  151 

"Let  wreaths  of  triumph  now  my  temples  twine/'  125 

The  victor  cried,  "the  glorious  prize  is  mine! 
While  fish  in  streams,  or  birds  delight  in  air, 
Or  in  a  coach  and  six  the  British  fair, 
As  long  as  Atalantis  shall  be  read, 

Or  the  small  pillow  grace  a  lady's  bed,       •  130 

While  visits  shall  be  paid  on  solemn  days, 
When  num'rous  wax-Ughts  in  bright  order  blaze. 
While  nymphs  take  treats,  or  assignations  give. 
So  long  my  honour,  name,  and  praise  shall  live !  " 

What  time  would  spare,  from  steel  receives  its  date,  135 

And  monuments,  Uke  men,  submit  to  fate ! 
Steel  did  the  labour  of  the  gods  destroy. 
And  strike  to  dust  th'  aspiring  tow'rs  of  Troy; 
Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound, 
And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground.  140 

What  wonder  then,  fair  nymph !   thy  hairs  should  feel 
The  conqu'ring  force  of  unresisted  steel? 

CANTO   II 

But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  nymph  oppressed, 

And  secret  passions  laboured  in  her  breast. 

Not  youthful  kings  in  battle  seized  ahve. 

Not  scornful  virgins  who  their  charms  survive, 

Not  ardent  lover  robbed  of  all  his  bliss,  g 

Not  ancient  lady  when  refused  a  kiss. 

Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die, 

Not  Cynthia  when  her  manteau's  pinned  awry. 

E'er  felt  such  rage,  resentment,  and  despair, 

As  thou,  sad  virgin !   for  thy  ravished  hair.  zo 

While  her  racked  soul  repose  and  peace  requires, 
The  fierce  Thalestris  fans  the  rising  fires. 


152 


APPENDIX 


"O  wretched  maid!"   she  spread  her  hands,  and  cried, 
(And  Hampton's  echoes,  "Wretched  maid!"   repUed) 
''Was  it  for  this  you  took  such  constant  care  15 

Combs,  bodkins,  leads,  pomatums  to  prepare? 
For  this  your  locks  in  paper  durance  bound  ? 
For  this  with  tort'ring  irons  wreathed  around? 
Oh  had  the  youth  been  but  content  to  seize 
Hairs  less  in  sight,  or  any  hairs  but  these !  2c 

Gods !   shall  the  ravisher  display  this  hair. 
While  the  fops  envy,  and  the  ladies  stare ! 
Honour  forbid  !   at  whose  unrivalled  shrine 
Ease,  pleasure,  virtue,  all,  our  sex  resign. 
Methinks  already  I  your  tears  survey,  25 

Already  hear  the  horrid  things  they  say, 
Already  see  you  a  degraded  toast, 
And  all  your  honour  in  a  whisper  lost ! 
How  shall  I,  then,  your  helpless  fame  defend? 
'T  will  then  be  infamy  to  seem  your  friend !  30 

And  shall  this  prize,  th'  inestimable  prize. 
Exposed  through  crystal  to  the  gazing  eyes. 
And  heightened  by  the  diamond's  circling  rays, 
On  that  rapacious  hand  for  ever  blaze? 

Sooner  shall  grass  in  Hyde  Park  Circus  grow,  35 

And  wits  take  lodgings  in  the  sound  of  Bow; 
Sooner  let  earth,  air,  sea,  to  chaos  fall. 
Men,  monkeys,  lapdogs,  parrots,  perish  all!" 
She  said;   then  raging  to  Sir  Plume  repairs. 
And  bids  her  beau  demand  the  precious  hairs:  40 

Sir  Plume,  of  amber  snuff-box  justly  vain, 
And  the  nice  conduct  of  a  clouded  cane. 
With  earnest  eyes,  and  round  unthinking  face. 
He  first  the  snuff-box  opened,  then  the  case, 
And  thus  broke  out —  "My  lord,  why,  what  the  devil!  45 


APPENDIX  153 

Zounds  !  damn  the  lock !   'fore  Gad,  you  must  be  civil ! 
Plague  on  't !   't  is  past  a  jest  —  nay,  prithee,  pox ! 
Give  her  the  hair."  —  He  spoke,  and  rapped  his  box. 

"It  grieves  me  much,"  rephed  the  peer  again, 
"Who  speaks  so  well  should  ever  speak  in  vain:  50 

But  by  this  lock,  this  sacred  lock,  I  swear, 
(W^hich  never  more  shall  join  its  parted  hair; 
Which  never  more  its  honours  shall  renew, 
Chpped  from  the  lovely  head  where  once  it  grew) 
That,  while  my  nostrils  draw  the  vital  air, 
This  hand,  which  won  it,  shall  for  ever  wear."  55 

He  spoke,  and  speaking,  in  proud  triumph  spread 
The  long-contended  honours  of  her  head. 

But  see !   the  nymph  in  sorrow's  pomp  appears, 
Her  eyes  half-languishing,  half  drowned  in  tears;  60 

Now  livid  pale  her  cheeks,  now  glowing  red 
On  her  heaved  bosom  hung  her  drooping  head. 
Which  with  a  sigh  she  raised,  and  thus  she  said : 
"For  ever  cursed  be  this  detested  day. 

Which  snatched  my  best,  my  fav'rite  curl  away;  65 

Happy !   ah  ten  times  happy  had  I  been. 
If  Hampton  Court  these  eyes  had  never  seen ! 
Yet  am  not  I  the  first  mistaken  maid. 
By  love  of  courts  to  num'rous  ills  betrayed. 
O  had  I  rather  unadmired  remained  70 

In  some  lone  isle,  or  distant  northern  land, 
Where  the  gilt  chariot  never  marked  the  way. 
Where  none  learn  ombre,  none  e'er  taste  bohea ! 
There  kept  my  charms  concealed  from  mortal  eye, 
Like  roses,  that  in  deserts  bloom  and  die.  75 

What  moved  my  mind  with  youthful  lords  to  roam? 
O  had  I  stayed,  and  said  my  pray'rs  at  home ! 
'T  was  this  the  morning  omens  did  foretell, 


154  APPENDIX 

Thrice  from  my  trembling  hand  the  patchbox  fell; 

The  tott'ring  china  shook  without  a  wind,  8c 

Nay,  Poll  sat  mute,  and  Shock  was  most  unkind ! 

See  the  poor  remnants  of  this  slighted  hair ! 

My  hands  shall  rend  what  ev'n  thy  own  did  spare: 

This  in  two  sable  ringlets  taught  to  break, 

Once  gave  new  beauties  to  the  snowy  neck;  85 

The  sister-lock  now  sits  uncouth,  alone, 

And  in  its  fellow's  fate  foresees  its  own; 

Uncurled  it  hangs,  the  fatal  shears  demands. 

And  tempts  once  more  thy  sacrilegious  hands." 

She  said :   the  pitying  audience  melt  in  tears ;  90 

But  fate  and  Jove  had  stopped  the  baron's  ears. 
In  vain  Thalestris  with  reproach  assails. 
For  who  can  move  when  fair  Belinda  fails? 
Not  half  so  fixed  the  Trojan  could  remain. 
While  Anna  begged  and  Dido  raged  in  vain.  95 

"To  arms,  to  arms!"   the  bold  Thalestris  cries, 
And  swift  as  Hghtning  to  the  combat  flies. 
All  side  in  parties,  and  begin  th'  attack; 
Fans  clap,  silks  rustle,  and  tough  whalebones  crack; 
Heroes'  and  heroines'  shouts  confus'dly  rise,  100 

And  bass  and  treble  voices  strike  the  skies; 
No  common  weapons  in  their  hands  are  found, 
Like  gods  they  fight,  nor  dread  a  mortal  wound. 

So  when  bold  Homer  makes  the  gods  engage, 
And  heav'nly  breasts  with  human  passions  rage,  105 

'Gainst  Pallas,  Mars;   Latona,  Hermes  arms, 
And  all  Olympus  rings  with  loud  alarms; 
Jove's  thunder  roars,  heav'n  trembles  all  around. 
Blue  Neptune  storms,  the  bellowing  deeps  resound : 
Earth  shakes  her  nodding  tow'rs,  the  ground  gives  way,      no 
And  the  pale  ghosts  start  at  the  flash  of  day  1 


APPENDIX  155 

While  through  the  press  enraged  Thalestris  flies, 
And  scatters  death  around  from  both  her  eyes, 
A  beau  and  witUng  perished  in  the  throng, 
One  died  in  metaphor,  and  one  in  song.  115 

"O  cruel  nymph;   a  hving  death  I  bear," 
Cried  Dapperwit,  and  sunk  beside  his  chair. 
A  mournful  glance  Sir  Fopling  upwards  cast, 
"Those  eyes  are  made  so  kilUng"  — was  his  last. 
Thus  on  Maeander's  flow'ry  margin  Ues  120 

Th'  expiring  swan,  and  as  he  sings  he  dies. 

As  bold  Sir  Plume  had  drawn  Clarissa  down, 
Chloe  stepped  in,  and  killed  him  with  a  frown ; 
She  smiled  to  see  the  doughty  hero  slain. 
But  at  her  smile  the  beau  revived  again.  125 

Now  Jove  suspends  his  golden  scales  in  air, 
Weighs  the  men's  wits  against  the  lady's  hair; 
The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  side  to  side; 
At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  subside. 

See  fierce  BeUnda  on  the  baron  flies,  130 

With  more  than  usual  hghtning  in  her  eyes: 
Nor  feared  the  chief  th'  unequal  fight  to  try, 
Who  sought  no  more  than  on  his  foe  to  die. 
But  this  bold  lord,  with  manly  strength  endued, 
She  with  one  finger  and  a  thumb  subdued :  135 

Just  where  the  breath  of  fife  his  nostrils  drew, 
A  charge  of  snuff  the  wily  virgin  threw; 
Sudden,  with  starting  tears  each  eye  o'erflows. 
And  the  high  dome  re-echoes  to  his  nose. 

"Now  meet  thy  fate,"  th'  incensed  virago  cried,  140 

And  drew  a  deadly  bodkin  from  her  side. 

"Boast  not  my  fall,"  he  said,  "insulting  foe! 
Thou  by  some  other  shalt  be  laid  as  low ; 
Nor  think  to  die  dejects  my  lofty  mind; 


156  APPENDIX 

All  that  I  dread  is  leaving  you  behind !  14-: 

Rather  than  so,  ah  let  me  still  survive, 
And  still  burn  on,  in  Cupid's  flames,  alive." 

" Restore  the  lock !"   she  cries;  and  all  around 
"Restore  the  lock!"    the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 
Not  fierce  Othello  in  so  loud  a  strain  150 

Roared  for  the  handkerchief  that  caused  his  pain. 
But  see  how  oft  ambitious  aims  are  crossed, 
And  chiefs  contend  till  all  the  prize  is  lost ! 
The  lock,  obtained  with  guilt,  and  kept  with  pain, 
In  ev'ry  place  is  sought,  but  sought  in  vain:  155 

With  such  a  prize  no  mortal  must  be  blessed, 
So  heav'n  decrees !   with  heav'n  who  can  contest  ? 
Some  thought  it  mounted  to  the  lunar  sphere, 
Since  all  that  man  e'er  lost  is  treasured  there. 
There  heroes'  wits  are  kept  in  pond'rous  vases,  160 

And  beaux'  in  snuff-boxes  and  tweezer-cases. 
There  broken  vows,  and  death-bed  alms  are  found, 
And  lovers'  hearts  with  ends  of  ribbon  bound, 
The  courtier's  promises,  and  sick  man's  pray'rs, 
The  smiles  of  harlots,  and  the  tears  of  heirs,  165 

Cages  for  gnats,  and  chains  to  yoke  a  flea, 
Dried  butterflies,  and  tones  of  casuistry. 

But  trust  the  muse  —  she  saw  it  upward  rise, 
Though  marked  by  none  but  quick  poetic  eyes : 
(Thus  Rome's  great  founder  to  the  heav'ns  withdrew,         170 
To  Proculus  alone  confessed  in  view) 
A  sudden  star,  it  shot  through  liquid  air. 
And  drew  behind  a  radiant  trail  of  hair. 
Not  Berenice's  locks  first  rose  so  bright. 

The  skies  bespangling  with  dishevelled  light.  175 

This  the  beau  monde  shall  from  the  Mall  survey, 
As  through  the  moonlight  shade  they  nightly  stray, 
And  hail  with  music  its  propitious  ray; 


APPENDIX  157 

This  Partridge  soon  shall  view  in  cloudless  skies, 

WTien  next  he  looks  through  Galileo's  eyes;  ibo 

And  hence  th'  egregious  wizard  shall  foredoom 

The  fate  of  Louis,  and  the  fall  of  Rome. 

Then  cease,  bright  nymph !    to  mourn  thy  ravished  hair, 
Which  adds  new  glory  to  the  shining  sphere ! 
Not  all  the  tresses  that  fair  head  can  boast,  185 

Shall  draw  such  envy  as  the  lock  you  lost. 
For  after  all  the  murders  of  your  eye, 
When,  after  millions  slain,  yourself  shall  die; 
When  those  fair  suns  shall  set,  as  set  they  must. 
And  all  those  tresses  shall  be  laid  in  dust,  190 

This  lock  the  muse  shall  consecrate  to  fame, 
And  'midst  the  stars  inscribe  Belinda's  name. 


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